


Time Heals All Wounds

by Drarry_Quite_Contrary



Series: Time Heals All Wounds [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Bottom Harry Potter, Bottom Severus Snape, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon Divergence - Battle of the Department of Mysteries (Harry Potter), Consensual Underage Sex, False Memories, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Forgiveness, Gay Harry Potter, Gay Severus Snape, Gay Sex, Good Severus Snape, Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Memories, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Minor Sirius Black/Severus Snape, POV Harry Potter, POV Remus Lupin, POV Severus Snape, POV Sirius Black, Podfic Welcome, Prophecy, Romantic Soulmates, Secret Relationship, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Switching, Teacher-Student Relationship, Threats of Violence, Time Travel, Time Travelling Harry Potter, Time Turner (Harry Potter), Top Harry Potter, Top Severus Snape, Underage Sex, Young Severus Snape, do not post on other sites
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarry_Quite_Contrary/pseuds/Drarry_Quite_Contrary
Summary: Harry’s venture into Snape’s worst memory left him filled with guilt and...longing. He needed to know more about the 16-year-old Severus Snape. He needed to know him. Protect him. Even from his own father....
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: Time Heals All Wounds [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047700
Comments: 270
Kudos: 629





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BongoMonkeys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BongoMonkeys/gifts), [SlightlyMighty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlightlyMighty/gifts), [Amalfoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amalfoy/gifts).



> ***All characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling***

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

The moment Harry registered Snape’s horrified face, he knew what he had done was unforgivable. The hurt and fury coiling behind Snape’s eyes shattered something deep within him.

Harry had run aimlessly from the dungeons, needing to get away— _far_ away. Not from Professor Snape’s wrath, but from the bubbling heat that filled his chest when he recalled what he had just seen—what he had _felt_.

“Bloody hell, Harry,” he whispered to himself, panting. He had made it to the third floor, collapsing against a wall before he dropped in the middle of the corridor.

He had seen his father. Sixteen years old, maybe a few months older than Harry. James had not been the smart, witty, charming, and selfless boy that had always been described to him by those that knew him—Remus and Sirius in particular. Sirius. Sirius had been there too. And they were fucking bullies. As arrogant and cruel as Snape had always described.

Harry didn’t know if he wanted to scream, curse, or cry as Severus’ memory flashed through his mind. The moment his father started tormenting him—with Sirius’ encouragement—Harry nearly cursed James. It wouldn’t have done a damned thing, but the intense urge to protect Severus...

“Hang on,” said Harry, shaking his head and blinking madly. _Since when is_ he _Severus...not Snape?_ Harry was shocked to find the man’s surname turned to ash in his mouth. 

Severus. The tall, slender boy in Slytherin robes brushed long black hair out of his eyes as he clutched books to his chest. Harry’s heart twisted. When he thought of Sn...Severus...he no longer saw the cruel, sharp features of the Potions Master—just a boy of sixteen. Brilliant, awkward, lonely, and proud. Eyes as dark as a starless night. Harry’s breathing eased, and his heartbeat slowed. Against all matters of reason and understanding, Harry was consumed by a single thought—he had to see him again. Not as a memory. No.

Harry needed to _know_ him.

* * *

Harry slept fitfully as Snape’s memory ravaged his dreams.

The look on James’ face when he cursed Severus—a wicked grin shifting his otherwise handsome features into something feral. His _father._

Sirius’ cruel laughter as he pointed his wand at Severus, spitting filthy words of ridicule. His _godfather._

Harry _hated_ them.

_“Been enjoying yourself, Potter?”_

“No,” he whispered audibly, a cold sweat dampening his brow.

The cruel, paralyzing figure of the Potions Master rippled and vanished, replaced by a retreating boy of sixteen.

The boy slowly turned toward him, his books toppling to his feet, reaching for Harry, eyes pleading, _“Find me.”_

Harry extended a hand as Severus’ slight form drifted into darkness, just out of his reach.

* * *

“Hermione,” said Harry as he casually buttered his toast, then spread a thick layer of marmalade.

“Hmm?” she responded, not looking up from her coursework already scattered about the table.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Hermione, it’s eight o’clock in the morning. How can you already be doing schoolwork?”

She looked at him, eyebrows pinched together. She opened her mouth to reprimand him, surely, but her expression quickly softened. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

Harry had hoped the Pepperup Potion would have calmed the effects of his restless sleep, but Hermione had always been the best at reading him—likely due to all the _reading_ she did for fun.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, brushing her off. “I was curious. Whatever happened to your, er, Time-Turner?” Harry tried to avoid looking at her, knowing full well that she would see straight through his question.

“Well,” she said skeptically, “since I wouldn’t be needing it any longer, I returned it to Professor McGonagall. Why?”

Harry had assumed as much, but the real question was, “Do you think she still has it?”

Turning fully toward him, she searched his face intently. “Why, Harry?”

“No reason. Just curious. Wonder if anyone else needed to use it besides you is all.” He stuffed more toast into his mouth.

“Right,” said Hermione, not convinced in the least. “I realize that you aren’t going to tell me what this is about, so I will respect that, but you _know_ time-travel is nothing to be trifled with. It was pure luck that we managed to save—” she paused, “ _—Witherwings_ and _Snuffles_ without causing irreparable harm.”

“I know that. I was just curious, honest!”

“Whatever you say, Harry.” She had already resumed writing her essay, not a single word spoken between them the remainder of the meal.

* * *

Harry knocked on the office door. “Professor McGonagall?

“Come in,” said a curt, female voice. “Potter? What has she done now?” McGonagall rose, looking murderous.

“Nothing! I mean, probably a lot of things, but no. Not why I’m here.” 

He approached the desk awkwardly as she relaxed back into her chair. No, relax was not a word ever used to describe McGonagall. She sat _less_ stiffly, releasing her breath. 

“Then why _are_ you here?”

There was no use beating around the bush. “I would like to apply for a Time-Turner, Professor.”

She blinked at him, lips pursed tightly together. “Why, on earth, would you believe I would allow for such a thing?”

“I need information. Information I can only get if I am actually _at_ that particular point in time.”

“What kind of _information?_ Surely if this were so important, you would take it up with the Headmaster.”

“Indeed, I do believe it may be in Harry’s best interest to have access to such an instrument.”

Harry twisted around to see Dumbledore step forward out of the shadows.

“Dumbledore! But you left! You have to leave. She can’t find you here! And Fudge...” Harry beseeched the bearded man.

“I have only dropped by for a moment to talk to Severus. She will be none the wiser,” smiled Dumbledore, blue eyes peering kindly over half-moon spectacles. 

Harry wasn’t so sure. Umbridge always managed to discover all of which had been carefully concealed. But in this case…

“So, you agree, sir. I shall receive a Time-Turner?” Harry was in absolute shock. He had assumed to be shot down entirely, only to gain information on where and how someone _could_ find one without the Ministry’s knowledge.

“Yes, I happen to have one right here,” Dumbledore pulled the small spinning hourglass out of his pocket. “Now, you must promise me—” holding it just out of Harry’s reach, “—that you will not use it to alter any events that have resulted in...death.”

Harry swallowed hard. He knew what Dumbledore had meant. James and Lily Potter had died, and so they would remain. 

Harry nodded.

“Secondly, you may only Travel within your assigned Occlumency session schedule. I have discussed this with Severus directly.”

“But Sev...Snape kicked me out!”

“Therefore, I believe that leaves you free to do with that time as you please. It is best to have an excuse for one’s absence, no?” Dumbledore winked.

This was going far easier than Harry could have imagined. He had anticipated the trip to the Ministry—possibly some memory modification—an invisibility cloak, or _some_ kind of intricate plot to acquire one of these rare treasures.

“Yes, Professor. But what about Occlumency? If Snape won’t teach me…”

“Oh, I do believe he will. The time will come.”

Dumbledore handed the Time-Turner to Harry, his eyes twinkling as he turned toward the door. 

“Give Severus my regards,” he said so low, only Harry could hear.

* * *

“Sorry, Ron. Can’t right now. I have Occlumency tonight,” said Harry, rushing toward the portrait hole. Ron had summoned his chess set expectantly but frowned at Harry’s retreating form. “But, it’s only five-forty!”

Harry gave him an apologetic look and stepped through the portrait hole. Now. Where should he go—or rather, when? Should he start with the memory? They had just taken their O.W.L. exams, had they not? So that would be...mid-June. But which year? 

Harry did some mental math. If he were right, Severus would be in his second term of Fifth Year in 1976. Okay. He might as well keep the day and month the same to avoid further confusion.

Upon further inspection, Harry noticed this particular Time-Turner had five rotating rings—hour, day, week, month, and year. Hermione’s had been exclusively an hour edition if he recalled. 

Making sure there were no onlookers in sight, Harry tossed over his invisibility cloak.

With a deep breath, he gave the Year ring 20 turns.

* * *

He was going to be sick. Three hours had been one thing, but 20 years… 

Harry wasn’t sure if he would recover in enough time to take advantage of his limited visitation allotment. He made a quick mental note to ask Madam Pomfrey for anti-nausea potions before a repeat journey.

Once Harry’s head stopped spinning, he was able to take in his surroundings. Still standing outside the Gryffindor common room portrait hole, the corridor looked nearly the same as he had left it, just a tad bit... _cleaner_. 

He was here. It was 1976. At least he prayed that he was. And now…

“Fuck,” said Harry.

He had no clue where to go or where to look. What was he thinking? That he could travel back in time, drop in with a “Hey, Severus! Fancy meeting you here!” He would need to make a decision. Soon.

Would he have to remain under his invisibility cloak? Maybe he could pass as another student. Surely no one would notice him if he kept his distance. For now, the cloak remained.

Being shortly after dinner, Harry expected Severus would be in or on his way to the Slytherin common room. _This is going to be difficult,_ he thought. If he came at this same time each evening, how would he ever manage to ‘bump’ into Severus?

Harry quickened his pace as he made his way toward the Great Hall. To his luck, dinner had just concluded, but he had to swerve violently around groups of students to avoid discovery. Harry searched through the sea of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor robes to the group of green-clad students descending to the dungeons.

Just as Harry was about to follow, he saw him. Severus wasn’t following his fellow Slytherins into the dungeons. Instead, he made his way down the opposite corridor. Toward the Library, perhaps? 

Harry’s breath hitched as he admired the boy, somehow far more beautiful than was registered in the memory. What on earth was he thinking. Severus... _beautiful?_

He gritted his teeth and followed the boy down the hall. The way he walked—his robes swaying back and forth with each step—made Harry’s insides tingle. Such an odd response to someone _walking._

Then, Harry heard them.

“Oi! Look who it is,” said a male voice. “What’s your hurry, _Snivellus?”_

Harry turned around to see Sirius and his father lurking in a corner. His blood ran cold.

“Hey, he was talking to you,” said James as he grabbed Severus’ arm.

Severus turned to him and recoiled. “I was just going to the Library. Please. Let me go,” he snarled.

“Oh, I don’t think so. We can’t have you running amok in the Restricted Section,” said Sirius, closing in on the other two boys.

“I wasn’t. I just…”

Unprepared for what was about to happen, Harry had to cover his mouth before releasing an audible gasp.

James slammed Severus up against the corridor wall, “I’m only going to tell you this once. Don’t talk to Evans ever again.”

“Believe me. I won’t,” said Severus sorrowfully. 

James smiled as he released Severus’ robes, smoothing them for the boy. “Well then, glad we had the chance to catch up.” James motioned to Sirius, who snickered, and walked in the direction of Gryffindor tower.

Severus crumpled into himself as he leaned against the wall. He was hyperventilating.

Without thinking, Harry released the invisibility cloak and ran to catch Severus before he collapsed onto the floor.

Severus’ eyes widened in horror, “Potter, what he fuck are you doing?”

Harry blinked. “You know who I am?”

Severus gave him an incredulous look. “I am _tired_ of these games, Potter. Let. Me. Go!” He pushed hard against Harry’s chest, and he reluctantly released him.

Shit, of course. “Hey, listen to me. I’m not James, Sev.” The nickname felt natural rolling off his tongue.

Severus’ face contorted into pure loathing, and let out a forced laugh, “The fuck you aren’t! I told you I’m done with Evans. Aren’t you happy?!”

Harry stood there, gaping at the boy. What was there to do? How could he convince Severus that he wasn’t his father—convince him that someone who looked exactly like his arch-enemy actually...what... _cared_ for him?

Severus paled, pointing at Harry. “You. Your hair. Your robes.”

Harry looked down at himself. Looking for a possible stain. To his relief, he looked perfectly normal.

At some point in the past 20 years, school robes had been cut slimmer, with straight sleeves, and a simple black fastening. Severus was standing before him in what Harry thought belonged in a muggle church choir—billowy, buttoned, and pleated along the back.

Harry laced his fingers into his hair. Shit, was it a mess? Of course, it was. He then realized that it was several inches longer than his father’s. 

“Sorry, it never quite lays right,” he said, blushing, and chanced a small smile.

Harry’s innocent response took Severus aback. He looked Harry up and down as if he had seen a ghost. Finally, his dark eyes met Harry’s, and Severus stumbled back, tripping on his robes.

Harry launched himself forward to catch him again. This time Severus did not protest. His face remained pale, but he looked into Harry’s eyes as if he had found refuge there. 

“You’re eyes,” whispered Severus. “Lily.”

Harry gulped. “This is going to sound crazy,” he paused, “but my name is Harry Potter. I’m Lily’s son.”

Severus blinked at him, wide-eyed. 

“From the future.”

Severus’ gaze danced around Harry's face—to the messy hair, his father’s nose, his glasses, his lips, and then his…

Severus lifted a hand to brush Harry’s bangs away to reveal his lightning-shaped scar. His fingers brushed against it, the touch incredibly intimate. Then, as if he had been burned, Severus pulled his hand away and shifted to remove himself from Harry’s arms. 

“Come with me,” whispered Severus severely as he grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him into an empty classroom.

The Slytherin looked as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stare at Harry or avoid his gaze entirely. He settled for the former as he crossed his arms.

“Prove it, _Harry._ ”

So Harry did. He told him all about Voldemort’s downfall, his parents’ deaths, the impossibility of his survival, Voldemort’s continuous murder attempts, and any possible random fact that could possibly convince him he was truly from the future. What he failed to mention was why he came in the first place.

“But _why_ are you here?”

Why, indeed.

The clock tower chimed nine times. “Fuck,” spat Harry.

Severus flinched, but Harry grabbed his hand. “Meet me here again on...what day is today?”

Severus looked down at their joined hands, “It’s Tuesday.”

“Okay, so, meet here at seven o’clock in two days. Thursday.”

“But, you still…”

“I will explain everything. I promise. I just have to go now. I can only stay a few hours at a time. Promise me you’ll come.”

Severus quirked his head slightly but nodded. 

With that confirmation, Harry gave Severus a toothy grin and threw his invisibility cloak over his head before running out the door.

When Harry arrived at the portrait hole, he pulled out the Time-Turner and spun the Year ring forward 20 times.

When the world righted itself once more, Harry vomited all over the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thank you for reading!**
> 
> **Be sure to[SUBSCRIBE](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarry_Quite_Contrary/pseuds/Drarry_Quite_Contrary/) for more Drarry / Snarry goodness!**
> 
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	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day in potions class, Harry had anticipated the disgust in Professor Snape’s gaze as it fell upon Harry. Harry’s eyes lingered on the older man, leaving Snape to retract his glare. 

Behind the sharp features and the evidence of a lifetime of torment and resentment, Harry slowly recognized the softer appearance of youth he had admired the evening prior. The way his hair often fell from behind his ear. The slight curve of his nose. His night-dark eyes that seemed to sparkle with stars in the cauldron’s firelight.

Aware of Harry’s continuous gaze throughout the lesson, Snape avoided as much as a glance in his direction.

Ron shoved him in the shoulder. “What’s up, mate?” glancing between Harry and Snape.

“Did something happen last night?” Ron whispered.

Yes, but he couldn’t tell Ron that. “It was a very...difficult lesson.”

Ron glared in Snape’s direction. “I still don’t understand why it has to be Snape. I’m sure other professors could teach you. Dumbledore even.”

“Dumbledore isn’t here anymore. It’s really not as bad as you think.”

“10 points from Gryffindor, Weasley. Unnecessary chit chat is not permitted in this class,” sneered Snape, still not looking at Harry.

Ron sat up straight, ears turning a violent shade of scarlet.

“Apologies, Professor. It was my fault,” Harry retorted.

Snape just nodded—looking nowhere in particular—and turned away from them.

Ron gave a questioning sidelong glance at Harry.

Harry just shrugged and rested his chin on his palm. He had no reason to patch things up with Snape. Better to be ignored than belittled, insulted, or chastised.

After a few moments, he returned to their Forgetfulness Potion. It was curious that Snape had selected a refresher of a First-Year level potion, but he didn’t overthink it. Snape’s lessons were often intensely difficult, so a slight reprieve was welcome, regardless of the oddity. 

At the end of the lesson, they were directed to supply several vials of their potions. This made Harry wonder if they were serving an alternative purpose than for an easy class.

Harry gave the Potions Master one last look before exiting the classroom.

* * *

Harry’s nerves were getting the best of him all throughout dinner. Hermione was clearly concerned by Harry’s small portions that he pushed around his plate.

“Are you feeling alright, Harry?”

He perked up and smiled at Hermione. “Oh, I’m fine. Just not feeling that hungry is all.”

When the tables cleared and students began to exit the hall, it took every ounce of restraint not to run to Gryffindor tower. 

Harry nodded and shrugged his way through Hermione’s discussion of her previous Arithmancy lesson. His friends would surely notice his odd behavior if he didn’t try to act naturally, regardless of the thoughts and emotions rippling through his body at the thought of this evening’s Travel. 

Harry sat by the fire, pretending to read his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages for what would be the 100th time, and when the clock struck six-thirty, he rose casually.

“Right. I better put this away and be off.”

“I do hope you are making progress with your Occlumency, Harry. This is extremely important.”

“I’m doing my best, Hermione.” He felt guilty lying to her. It _was_ important, but he would have to find a different teacher. Snape was entirely out of the question. Harry didn’t doubt if the Potions Master never spoke to him ever again—or at least a month or two.

After dropping off his book and grabbing his invisibility cloak, he pocketed the Time-Turner.

With a wave to his friends, he stepped through the portrait hole. 

Under the cloak. 20 turns.

* * *

Harry steadied himself, willing the sickness to retreat. He was glad to have eaten so little at dinner. Gathering his composure, he traversed the nearly deserted corridors to the empty classroom. Harry’s stomach was in knots, but he didn’t think it was from the Traveling. 

Harry opened the door and removed his cloak. The room was vacant. He guessed he still had seven minutes or so before Severus would arrive.

Seven became ten. Ten became thirty. Severus did not come.

Filled with frustration and disappointment, Harry shrugged on his cloak. With over an hour left to spare, he chose to explore the castle. As he made his way toward the Astronomy tower, in hopes of getting a full view of the grounds, voices carried from down the hall.

“You’ve been staring at me, _Snivellus_. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Like what you see?” Harry discovered his father, looming over a gaping Severus pressed against the wall.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Severus venomously.

James grabbed Severus’ chin. “Oh, I think you do.” James leaned in, and Severus shut his eyes.

James burst out laughing, pushing away from the pale, dark-haired boy. “You are disgusting,” snarled James. Then he spat at Severus’ feet.

Harry was acting before his brain could catch up to him. _“Stupefy!”_ he yelled as his father flew down the corridor, stunned. His invisibility had fallen to the floor, and Severus looked at him in horror.

“You!” he gasped.

“Me,” said Harry stiffly as he pocketed his wand. “So, this is why you didn’t show?” 

Harry was furious. With his father, _and_ with Severus.

“It’s not what it looks like! I was on my way to meet you, then Potter—” he glanced toward the unconscious James, sprawled on the floor, “—he found me and, well,” he twisted his hands together nervously, “ _that_ happened.”

Harry’s fury ebbed at Severus’ annoyed expression, and without thinking, Harry strode over to Severus and wrapped his arms around him, cradling his head in his shoulder. He smelled of black pepper and basil. 

“You aren’t disgusting,” said Harry softly.

Severus stood there stiffly but did not push him away. Then—ever so slowly—he wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist.

Something broke free in Harry’s chest. In his heart. A warm, flowing sensation throughout his entire body. His skin was aflame, aware of every inch of Severus’ body against his.

Severus’ arms suddenly grew tighter around him. “How did you find me?” he whispered.

“Your memory. Well, that of your future self. It was an accident, really. You were furious,” chuckled Harry.

Severus pulled back to look at him, “So, you’ve met me before,” evident disappointment shown in his eyes.

“Yes. You’re the Potions Master. In my time.”

Realizing how exposed they were, Severus pulled Harry into an alcove.

Severus’ eyebrows creased in confusion. “But if we had already met...in the future—” he swallowed, “—why would you come to find me here? Now?”

Harry wasn’t sure. “It wasn’t until I saw you, as you are now, in Snape’s memory...sorry... _your_ memory. Something changed. I no longer hated you…”

Severus gave him an offended expression.

“I’m sorry! You have to understand. You really are terrible. Fuck. That’s coming out wrong.” Harry laced his fingers into his hair, agitated. “I think you resent me. For looking like my father.”

Severus considered his words. “I don’t doubt that, frankly.”

“I don’t know what happened. I entered your memory. My father and Sirius were there. They were...tormenting you.”

“Naturally,” said Severus, flatly.

Harry gave him a pleading look. “I was furious! All I wanted to do was hex him. Protect you. As if it was my duty or something. Once Snape pulled me from the Pensieve, you were all I could think about. I needed to see you again. For real this time.”

“But you never felt this way before?” asked Severus.

“Bloody hell, no,” huffed Harry.

“It is possible that it only presented itself because we were close to the same age?”

It.

“No idea,” said Harry. “All I know is, I’m here, and you’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

Harry pushed back the loose lock of hair, Severus shivering under his touch. Then Harry kissed him, and Severus kissed him back. He combed his fingers into the boy’s long black hair, losing himself in his embrace.

In the arms of his soulmate.

* * *

Harry’s return to 1996 was the hardest thing he had ever done, and that was saying something. More difficult than facing a Dementor, the Tri-Wizard Tournament, or even Voldemort himself.

Their kiss had only broken at the sound of James’ stirring grunts. Harry had responded quickly with a Confundus Charm before wrapping himself and Severus under the invisibility cloak. They made their way to the Slytherin common room, where Harry said his final goodnight. 

The ghost of that gentle kiss lingered on his lips. 

Already aching with their separation, Harry prepared for bed in anticipation of a sleepless night. 

“You’re later than usual,” said Ron. “Blimey, you look worse than yesterday. What the blazes is Snape doing to you?”

Harry only shrugged as he climbed into bed and closed his curtains.

“Goodnight then,” said Ron, annoyed.

Harry felt guilty for snubbing Ron, but he just couldn’t face anyone right now. He had to find a way to see Severus more than the measly two hours twice a week. Excusing further absences would be challenging. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the time, with his lifelong quidditch ban and the rescindment of D.A. meetings. He nearly always spent his evenings at Hermione’s side, insistent upon studying for their O.W.L.s. Ron would still be busy with his endless quidditch practices. If he could just convince Hermione…

He would have to tell her. If anyone would listen and try to understand, it would be Hermione.

After a few hours of tossing and turning, Harry finally found himself falling into a restful sleep, with visions of midnight eyes.

* * *

In his next potions lesson, Professor Snape appeared to have returned to his regular fits of cruelty toward Harry. It seemed the more Harry ignored him, the harder Snape pressed. He even shot the man an occasional smile, and the continued agitation on Snape’s face warmed Harry’s cheeks. Was Harry... _flirting_? Surely not. This was not _his_ Severus. Even so, the slightest sense of closeness to him eased Harry’s yearning. A chance to look into the eyes shared with the one he loved was all he could ask for.

After the class was dismissed, Harry approached Professor Snape’s desk.

“I’m sorry. I should never have looked, but I will never say that I regret it.”

Snape’s face contorted with rage. “How dare you speak to me so casually. Get out of my sight. Now. Or I will throw you out as I did before!”

“My father was an absolute dick. You were right. I won’t let him get away with it. I promise you.”

The confusion on Snape’s face matched an expression he had seen before. Harry smiled to himself at the memory.

As he turned toward the door, he heard Snape say, “And how could you possibly manage such a thing?” There was an edge to his voice, but it contained a hint of vulnerability.

“I will always protect you,” said Harry, and he strode out the door, leaving a stunned Severus Snape in his wake.

* * *

Later that evening, as he ‘studied’ with Hermione in the Library, he knew he had to round up the courage to tell her.

Harry cast Muffliato before turning to her. She glanced up in question.

“Hermione. I have to tell you something. I need you to listen before you say anything. It’s going to sound absolutely insane. I wouldn’t believe it myself, but it’s true.”

Hermione’s eyes filled with concern, and as she opened her mouth to respond, she closed it quickly. She set down her quill and nodded.

“I’m no longer having Occlumency lessons with Snape.”

Hermione’s nostrils flared, “Harry, I told you! You have…”

Harry raised his hand to silence her. “Hermione, I am _not_ here to argue about this. I asked you to listen. Can you do that?” said Harry angrily.

“Alright, fine. Go ahead, then.”

“It was during last week’s session. Draco came to collect Snape for Umbridge, so he left me to wait for him. I noticed he had Dumbledore’s Pensieve. I was curious. Maybe he had information on the Department of Mysteries. I was an idiot.”

Hermione raised a hand to her mouth. “You didn’t.”

Harry nodded. “I did.”

So he told her. All about Severus’ run-in with his father and Sirius. About his mother coming to his rescue when Harry could do nothing but watch.

Harry’s fury was evident, and Hermione rested a gentle hand on his arm in assurance.

“That had to be so hard to witness, Harry. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s not nearly the end of it.” He took a deep breath. “Hermione. The moment I saw Severus in the memory, something changed. I think I knew then what I know to be true now. Severus is my soulmate.”

Hermione blinked at him, “Harry, you must be joking. Professor _Snape?_ How completely preposter…”

“Hermione!” he hissed, exasperated. “I told you it was going to sound mental, but it’s true. I traveled back to 1976. I met him. Then I knew for sure.”

“I’m sorry, Harry. You _what?”_

“I knew I needed to see him. The _real_ him. That’s why I was asking about the Time-Turner. Dumbledore gave me one.”

“Dumbledore?! But he’s gone! There’s no way he would allow for such a thing. This is really dangerous, Harry. What changes could you set in motion by doing this?”

“I think Dumbledore knows. Why else would he give it to me? Maybe I’m _supposed_ to do this.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Unless Dumbledore knows your exact actions and their reactions, surely he couldn’t!”

“He knew about Sirius and Buckbeak! Don’t you remember? He knows, Hermione.”

Hermione looked away. He had forgotten how difficult it could be to convince her of anything Hermione deemed irrational. If the answer was not absolute and concrete, it was of no value to her.

“I need to see him again, and I need your help to do it,” he begged. Harry grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Please,” he whispered. Tears stung his eyes.

Hermione’s face flooded with empathy. She squeezed back.

“What do you need me to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thank you for reading! <3**
> 
> **Artwork by[drarry_quite_contrary](https://www.instagram.com/drarry_quite_contrary/) (me)**


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione did what Hermione does best and wrote up a Travel schedule for Harry.

“Now we cannot have you going too often, or Ron is bound to notice,” she noted, making some scribbles on a large piece of parchment.

“Ron has quidditch practice every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings. Oh, and Saturday morning as well. Though I’m not sure Severus will want a visit at six in the morning.”

“Thank you, Hermione. You really are amazing.”

“Of course, I am. Now please take a look and see if it is satisfactory.” She handed him the parchment.

> _Monday: 5:30-7:30p - Quidditch Practice  
> _ _Tuesday: 7:00-9:00p - Occlumency  
> _ _Wednesday: 5:00-7:00p - Quidditch Practice  
> _ _Thursday: 5:30-9:00p - Quidditch Practice / Occlumency  
> _ _Friday: 5:30-10:00p - O.W.L. Prep (no exceptions!)  
> _ _Saturday: 6:00-9:00a - Quidditch Practice  
> _ _Sunday: Homework / O.W.L. Prep (also no exceptions!)_

Harry snickered, then let out a soft sigh. He wished that there were more hours in the day. Even so, it looked like a very reasonable schedule to follow, even with Hermione’s _amendments._

He’d have to review it with Severus, of course, as he surely had his own activities in the evenings. Or maybe he didn’t. He seemed always to be alone. _Perhaps studying in the library or practicing the Dark Arts._ Harry snickered at the thought—though it _was_ possible. Did Severus have friends? If so, could they possibly be future Death Eaters as well? This was something they would have to face eventually, but Harry cast it from his mind.

“This is great, Hermione. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet; I have a long list of ways you can pay me back, Harry Potter,” she said with a devilish smirk.

“S.P.E.W. requires 15 new members. Do you think you can manage? While you’re at it, take some badges and pamphlets with you! I will not pass up the opportunity to get this message out 20 years early!”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Ugh, fine. I’ll use the D.A. galleon. Watch, I’ll get 20!”

He got two—Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. Harry shouldn’t be surprised. They were the only two that hoped for the return of D.A. meetings. Luna and Neville had always felt like outsiders but found friendship and community within Dumbledore’s Army. They all had.

Luna had requested that they help the house-elves make dinner that evening, though Harry was confident that this wouldn’t be acceptable. The house-elves would surely kick them out as soon as they touched as much as a ladle.

Harry was graciously allowed to pass on this evenings’ O.W.L. prep session after convincing Hermione that he needed some time to review the schedule.

As it was Friday, he would have to consider the idea of visiting at six in the morning on Saturday, but that seemed utterly ridiculous. Harry would have to wait until Monday, and this tore him apart. He wondered what Severus would be doing right now. Would he be in the library? Wandering the grounds? He hoped nowhere near his father. 

He sneered as the thought of James’ behavior the previous night sent Harry's gut twisting. How could that boy be his _father?_ And his mother—what could she have possibly seen in such a prick?

Harry was thankful that he did not acquire the same characteristics as James—aside from his looks, of course. Seeing his father come at Severus in such a way made his blood boil.

After some intense brooding, Harry made the spontaneous decision to visit Snape in the dungeons. Since he could not see Severus this evening, he’d take the next best thing.

* * *

Snape was leaning over a cauldron when Harry walked into the Potions classroom, appearing transfixed on its contents. 

Snape did not seem to notice Harry enter, so he shouted, “Evening, Severus!”

The man jolted, looking up at Harry in shock.

“Potter,” he sneered. “What do you think you are doing? I do not require your company this evening, or any evening for that matter.”

“I need to talk to you,” said Harry firmly. “Please.”

“What on earth could you have to say to _me_ that would be of any interest?”

Harry did not look away from Snape’s penetrating glare.

“Do you remember me?”

“What idiotic nonsense is this? You are standing before me, are you not? I have acknowledged you by name. What do you take me for, Potter?”

“Do you remember me from back then?”

Snape froze. “I do not know what you mean.”

Harry approached the man slowly. “1976. Do. You. Remember. Me.”

Snape’s glare wavered. “I need you to leave,” he choked. “ _Now,_ Harry.”

Harry. There it was.

Snape had never referred to him by his given name. But what did that mean? What could have possibly happened that sparked Severus’ future self’s coldness toward him?

Harry smiled warmly. “I’m not sure why you hate me so much, Severus. I never, ever want to hurt you.”

Snape gulped. “Har...Potter, please leave!” He pointed an urging finger toward the door.

“Fine. We don’t have to discuss it further, but I’m asking you regardless. Were you happy? With me?”

Harry was shocked by the man’s response.

“Every moment.”

Agony and vulnerability filled Snape’s eyes as he looked at Harry. _Really_ looked at him.

Harry smiled at the man. “Good. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” Then he walked out the door.

Snape stood there in silence.

* * *

Snape remembered him. It was obvious. What had gone so wrong that Snape could look upon him with such malice and distaste. Harry’s heart squeezed as his stomach turned. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

Whatever it was, he could fix it. He had to.

* * *

The weekend drew by at a snail’s pace. Harry didn’t dare revisit the Potions Master. With his next Travel quickly approaching, Harry hoped he would be able to find the boy. As far as Severus knew, the next night they’d meet would be on Tuesday, not the evening prior. Harry didn’t believe this would come as a disappointment, but it did complicate things a bit. 

Ron said his goodbyes, with an apologetic look at Harry, as he exited the common room in his quidditch leathers.

Harry let out a deep sigh. He missed flying. It just wasn’t fair. Harry was sure Umbridge’s ban would not stand, but for the time being, it was torture.

The thought of spending this free time with Severus, however, eased the pain significantly.

Harry gave Hermione a look, signaling his cue for departure. She gave him a soft smile. _‘Be safe,’_ she mouthed in his direction. He nodded and stepped out of the portrait hole.

* * *

Severus wasn’t in the Library. Disappointment washing over him, Harry made his way down to the dungeons. If Severus were in the common room, Harry would be out of luck.

There was no sign of Severus. Harry let out a small growl of frustration. 

Suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind. Harry had been in the Slytherin common room before. What was the password Malfoy had used? 

_Pureblood._

Harry rolled his eyes. There was a high probability that this particular password could have been used on multiple occasions. Harry took a deep breath as he approached the wall, in which a door to the Slytherin common room was concealed. 

“Pureblood,” he said, almost as a question. To his surprise, the door appeared, opening before him.

Harry stepped into the common room. A few younger Slytherins had looked up in curiosity with the lack of a figure entering with it. Harry searched the room. No sign of Severus.

_This is idiotic,_ thought Harry. _If I do find him, surely he’ll be surrounded by dormmates. What then?_

To Harry’s surprise, Severus entered the common room from the boys’ dormitory. He looked pale and nervous as he made his way toward the common room’s exit. Harry dared not reveal himself yet—not in front of other students. 

Following Severus out the door, he noticed the boy look around frantically before darting down the dungeon corridor. Severus’ face had held a combination of fear and determination. Not wanting to give the boy a heart attack so close to his common room, which would surely alert the entire common room, Harry decided to remain under the cloak for a bit longer.

Severus didn’t head toward the stairs. He made his way toward the vacant cells in a distant and secluded part of the dungeons—once used to hold troublesome students, Harry imagined.

Severus had turned a corner sharply, out of Harry’s line of sight.

“Ah, Severus. You made it,” said a muffled voice. “I was worried.”

Harry flattened himself against the wall, softening his breathing.

“Sirius, I need to tell you something.”

Harry’s breath hitched at the sound of his godfather’s name.

“We can’t meet like this anymore,” said Severus.

Harry tiptoed around the corner, eyes widening at the sight of the two boys. Sirius had his arms around Severus—it wasn’t in jest or with malice—Sirius looked _affectionate._

Harry couldn’t move. He begged himself to move, to do _something,_ but his body wouldn’t allow it.

“What are you saying? You know I can’t tell James. It kills me that I have to lie. To play the game at your expense. None of it is real. You _know_ that.”

Severus’ hands gripped Sirius’ robes tightly, but he didn’t look up at the handsome boy. “That’s not what I meant. We can’t meet...anymore. We can’t see each other.”

Sirius released Severus, then grabbed the Slytherin’s shoulders. “Look at me when you say that.” Sirius shook him. “Look at me!”

Severus lifted his gaze hesitantly. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He was crying.

Harry’s heart shattered into a million pieces. What had he just walked in on? Severus and... _Sirius?_ Were they...what? Together? Harry’s jealousy consumed him as he took in the scene before him. 

Suddenly, Harry felt weak. Was this his fault? Had Harry’s appearance caused this? Was Severus...already in love with someone else? Tears trickled down his cheeks, still frozen in place as if in a Full Body Bind.

“What brought this on?” said Sirius...no... _pleaded._ “I don’t understand. Nothing has changed.” He looked so vulnerable. “Has it?”

Severus wiped tears from his eyes, “I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s completely out of my control.”

Sirius pulled Severus against him once more. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Please.” His words cracked around a short sob.

Severus looked up at Sirius. Harry could see the hurt in his eyes. The want. “It’s too late for us, Sirius. We can’t…”

Sirius put a hand behind Severus’ neck and kissed him. He hesitated at first, but Severus’ arms soon wrapped around the taller boy. He was still crying.

Harry had seen enough. He mustered up enough courage to pull out the Time-Turner.

* * *

Harry banged on Professor Snape’s door. No reply. Harry banged louder.

“Severus, open this fucking door!”

His banging continued until the door opened abruptly. A furious Professor Snape stood before him, dressed in an evening robe.

“What the hell are you doing here, Potter! This is completely inappropriate. Go back to your dormitory at once!” he spat.

Harry pushed past Snape before the man could shut the door in his face. 

“Potter, I told you to…” Snape froze.

Harry was crying. He was bawling his fucking eyes out. Crumpling to the floor, he curled up in a ball, shaking with violent sobs.

Snape stared at him in panic. “Potter...Harry...what...what’s wrong?” He didn’t touch him. In fact, he did not take a single step toward Harry.

Harry sobbed for what felt like an hour. Severus’ only motion was to sit on the chair near the hearth, facing Harry. He didn’t say a word.

Once Harry finally calmed down, he managed to speak a few quiet words, “I saw you.”

“What was that? Speak up, Potter.” Snape’s words were curt but not unkind.

“I saw you,” choked Harry, still curled on the floor. “With _him.”_

“Who?”

“Sirius.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the eerie silence that followed Harry’s last word.

“I don’t understand,” said Snape, breaking the silence.

“I went back. I went back, and I followed you. Followed you to…” The words were too painful. Harry’s arms tightened around him.

“When?” Snape’s voice grew softer—quieter.

“Today. 20 years ago.”

Severus seemed to have transported someplace else, his eyes darting around, not quite seeing. Then his eyes widened in horror. He jumped to his feet.

“Harry. Get up.”

Harry didn’t move.

“Please, Harry,” he said, finally lowering himself beside Harry. He placed reluctant hands on the boy’s shoulders. Harry flinched. “Please. Get up.”

“Why should I?” sneered Harry.

“Because I have something important to show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Harry wanted to tear himself from Snape’s grip as he was pulled to his feet, but the sudden feeling of warmth and safety stayed him. He looked up at Snape, seeing a flash of shock in his face before pulling a sneer.

“Come with me.”

* * *

The Pensieve had remained in Professor Snape’s office.

After dragging Harry nearly the entire way, Snape finally released him.

“I have some things to show you."

“I think I’ll pass, thanks,” huffed Harry, crossing his arms.

Snape laughed, “Ah, yes, but you were _so_ interested before.”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Harry turned from Snape. He could still feel where his hand had seared into his bicep. Harry rubbed it unconsciously.

“You need this,” Snape’s words were sharp, then suddenly became soft and sorrowful. “ _I_ need this,” he whispered.

Harry looked at Snape, still skeptical. What possibly could be gained from this?

“Fine.”

Snape nodded at him curtly before pulling out his wand and placing the tip to his temple. He seemed to be having some difficulty. Repressed memories, perhaps? This piqued Harry’s interest slightly. What could have been so terrible that Snape didn’t wish to remember?

Finally, a long twisted silver rope seeped from his temple and was dropped into the Pensieve.

Snape took a deep breath, then gestured toward the bowl.

Harry mimicked Snape’s strong inhale before approaching the Pensieve and dove into its shimmering depths.

Harry was shocked to find him standing nearly in the same location he had been only a few hours prior. He jumped at the presence of Snape at his side. 

“Why are _you_ here?”

“Do you really think I would let you run amok in my darkest memories? Idiotic boy.”

Harry glowered. His gaze settled on the spot where he knew his past self must be—under the invisibility cloak. 

Harry froze as a voice pierced the silence. Fucking Sirius. Tears stung at Harry’s eyes, but he didn’t look away.

“What are you saying? You know I can’t tell James. It kills me that I have to lie—to play the game at your expense. None of it is real. You _know_ that.”

“That’s not what I meant. We can’t meet...anymore. We can’t see each other.”

“Look at me when you say that. Look at me!”

“I’m so sorry.” 

Harry’s heart sank.

“What brought this on? I don’t understand. Nothing has changed...has it?”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s completely out of my control.”

Harry didn’t want to watch. He couldn’t, but as soon as he clamped his eyes shut, Snape grabbed his arm and shook him. His eyes flew open.

Sirius was pulling Severus to him. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Please.”

The hurt Harry remembered was still there on Severus’ face. “It’s too late for us, Sirius. We can’t…”

Harry’s stomach twisted. Sirius was kissing Severus. Harry was prepared for the betrayal laid plainly before him. But...Severus _didn’t_ embrace Sirius. He was grabbing his arms.

Harry heard the faint rustle of his past self’s departure.

“No! Stop!” Severus pushed a shocked Sirius away from him. “This isn’t right.” His tone was stern, leaving no sign of weakness or indecision. “I don’t want this!”

“Sev, please.” Sirius moved to hold him once again, but Severus took a step back.

“Don’t call me that! It doesn’t belong to you. Not anymore.”

Sirius was angry now, nostrils flaring. “Fine, _Snivellus_. If you’re going to act like this—not going to tell me what the _fuck_ is going on—” Sirius pulled out his wand. 

Harry moved to act, but Snape held his arm firm.

_“Legilimens!”_

Severus’ eyes widened in terror as he fell to his knees, fingers digging into his scalp. Suddenly, Sirius had been knocked back by some invisible force.

“James,” he whispered. “It’s James.”

Severus looked up at him, horrified. “No, it’s not what you think.”

“I saw him! Don’t you fucking lie to my face!”

Severus flinched but did not look away.

“I’ve had enough of this. Fuck you! Fuck James. God, _dammit!”_

Sirius punched the wall, and Severus and Harry jumped. Snape remained stiff beside him, his grip tightening just a fraction.

Severus clambered to his feet, standing a bit taller, pulling out his wand. 

“Now you listen to _me._ You didn’t see what you think you saw. James is an arrogant, slimy piece of filth. I wouldn’t touch him if I were handed all the Galleons in Gringotts!” Severus forced out a laugh. “I don’t know why I’m trying to defend him. I’d love to see you kick in his teeth.”

Sirius growled, consumed with fury, but Harry could see the glint of anguish in his eyes. “You disgust me. Fuck you. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even _look_ at me! This ends here.”

“Brilliant. Glad we are on the same page.” Severus did not lower his wand. 

Sirius stood there, glaring at the boy, but his features slowly grew somber. He looked like he was about to punch Severus in the face but thought better of it. With one last snarl, he stormed out of the cell and down the corridor.

Severus dropped his wand, crumpling to the floor once again.

Harry wanted to reach out for him, but the memory disappeared into smoke.

* * *

They were in the empty classroom. Severus was pacing, clearly in distress.

Suddenly, something happened that Harry did not think possible. Snape rested a hand on the crown of Harry’s head. 

Harry _was_ Severus. Staring from his eyes, inside his mind. Consumed by every emotion.

_Where the fuck was Harry?_ he thought. 

Severus combed his fingers into his hair. It’s not like he could go looking for him. He didn’t even know how he got here in the first place. And there was that cloak. Maybe something came up, and he couldn’t come. Yes. That had to be it. I’ll just have to come back. 

His heart lurched at the longing he felt. He needed to talk to Harry, needed to see him, be with him, be held by him. 

Severus shuddered at the memory of Sirius. He had been careless to let his mental shields fall. He wasn’t prepared. Emotions ran too high. It wouldn’t happen again. He would resume his Occlumency training immediately.

Severus hadn’t seen Sirius at all that day, to his relief. He wasn’t in Transfiguration. Severus couldn’t help but notice James’ black eye. It made Severus shudder. When Severus caught his eye, James bore his teeth at him, eyes ablaze.

Fuck. This couldn’t be good. He knew getting involved with Sirius wouldn’t end in a ‘happily ever after’. He had been naive. Now, he’d have to be on his guard. Time to pull out his arsenal of curses if they ever sought him out. This made him smile wickedly. He would love the chance to knock James down a peg or two.

Unsurprisingly, he needed them sooner than later. 

Severus hurried out of the classroom, praying to avoid James at all costs.

_“Levicorpus!”_

Severus flipped upside down, dangling in front of his classmates, giggles echoing in the hall.

James’ smile was filled with loathing. He flicked his wand as Severus flailed around violently. To his luck, Severus was able to catch his wand before it dropped to the floor.

_“Sectumsempra!”_

Slashes as if from a blade sliced through James’ wand arm and shoulder. A slight cut grazed his right cheek.

Severus crashed to the floor at the abrupt release of James’ spell. Ignoring the ache rattling his body, he gathered his belongings and ran down the hall, leaving shrieking students in his wake.

* * *

Professor Slughorn paced his office in front of Severus.

“My boy, what on earth came over you?”

“James cursed me, Professor.”

Slughorn paused before resuming his anxious stride. “So, this was in self-defense?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I see. Although I disapprove of your methods, this changes things entirely. I must, to my displeasure, take 50 points from Slytherin.” Slughorn shuddered. “You will also receive detention. Tuesday and Thursday evenings for the next four weeks, I think.”

Severus’ heart sank. “Professor! Surely other evenings would be preferable. Take my weekends, sir! Surely this would be more severe of a punishment.

Slughorn considered his words. “Unfortunately, my boy, I do not wish to sacrifice _my_ weekends. Eight o’clock sharp. My office.”

Severus’ sighed in frustration. Fucking great.

* * *

Back in the vacant classroom, Severus knew eight o’clock was quickly approaching. He conjured up some parchment and a quill, scrawling a quick note.

_Harry,_

_Regretfully, I’ve been graciously awarded detention with Slughorn each Tuesday and Thursday evenings at eight o’clock for the next four weeks. (The reason need not be discussed at this time)._

_Sorry I missed you._

_I miss you,_

_Sev_

Hopefully, Harry would read it, realizing the importance of a prompt seven o’clock arrival. That is, if he is right, thinking that Harry’s visits are strictly on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Severus left extra parchment, ink, and quill in anticipation of Harry’s response.

* * *

After Slughorn’s detention, constituting of dusting all his portraits of his dear Slug Club alumni, Severus made his way to the classroom.

Quickly shutting the door behind him, he rushed to the desk. Disappointment hit him like a blow to the chest.

It was fine. He’ll just have to come back. If he comes at seven o’clock each evening, he’ll surely run into Harry. He can’t risk missing him again.

He scribbled an additional note.

_Harry_

_If you find this before I see you again, please supply me with a schedule (if you have one) of your visiting availability. I’ll adjust my own schedule accordingly._

_Eagerly awaiting your return._

_Yours,_

_Sev_

* * *

Days passed. Harry did not come. Waking up each morning became more difficult as time went on. What was the point of living if he was not whole? The void in his chest seemed to grow larger with each passing day. Even the thought of Harry’s name brought piercing jabs to his abdomen.

The only matter getting him through his feeble existence was the anticipation of catching that werewolf, Lupin. Sirius never did tell him directly, but when Severus had asked, the question had always been deflected.

A werewolf at Hogwarts. How despicable. Putting every student at risk. What was Dumbledore thinking?! The madman.

Finally, that day came.

* * *

“Hey, Moony, looking forward to tonight?” said Sirius.

Severus held his breath, leaning behind a pillar as he listened intently to the four boys lurking in the courtyard.

“What kind of question is that? You know fucking well, I never agreed to this. You two have gone mental. Easy for you to make plans at my expense. What if I bite him...I could _kill_ him, Padfoot,” said Lupin.

“That’s the general idea,” snickered James.

“You d-don’t mean that do you, Prongs?” asked Peter nervously.

“Wormtail, don’t be such a twit,” said Sirius.

“Though it will be difficult for someone to reach the knot at the base of the Whomping Willow to open the secret passage to the Shrieking Shack.”

Someone muffled a laugh. 

“Maybe a long stick would do the trick.”

“Good idea, Prongs.”

More muffled snickering.

Then the boys wandered back toward the castle, leaving Severus digesting what he had just heard. He was thrumming with anticipation. Finally, he would be able to prove once and for all that there was a _monster_ attending Hogwarts.

With a gentle tug, Harry was back inside his own body, watching Severus scurry toward the castle.

Just out of earshot, he heard them.

“Just as we planned,” hissed Sirius.

“He heard the whole thing,” whispered James with a chuckle.

Harry’s blood ran cold.

With another swirl of smoke, he was back in Snape’s office, staring at a pale Professor Snape.

Harry stood there, gaping. “I don’t understand.”

“Take your time. I know your mental capacity is mediocre at best.”

Harry glared at him, “Why do you have to be like this!”

“I’m...sorry. Old habits die hard, I’m afraid.”

Harry’s mind raced through what he had just seen. Severus had met Sirus to _break up_ with him. He wasn’t cheating on Harry. Though his concern was a bit silly having spent two evenings with the boy. What was more concerning, however…

“I don’t go back,” Harry whispered. He looked at Snape. “I never go back. I just...leave you there. Why? Why would I do that? I wouldn’t do that to you. You have to know that!”

Snape remained silent.

Then his mind shot to the last conversation. Sirius and James had known Severus was listening. It was a trap.

Another Snape’s voice rang out in the back of his mind.

> _“Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen,” he breathed. “You haven’t forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven’t forgotten that he once tried to kill me?”_
> 
> _“My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus,” said Dumbledore quietly._

Then, Dumbledore was sitting beside him.

> _“And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive.”_
> 
> _“What?”_
> 
> _“He saved his life.”_

But, if his father was behind it from the very beginning, why would he _save_ him?

Another memory. 

> _The Black Lake. Sirius, Harry, Hermione. Dementors closing in upon them. Then his father was there. No._ He _was there. He had sent the Dementors away with a Corporeal Patronus. A stag._

Harry gasped. Suddenly everything was clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVED WRITING THIS SO MUCH! _squuuueeeeeeeeeee!_


	5. Chapter 5

“It was me. I’m the one who saved you.”

Snape’s face was unreadable.

Harry ran up to the man, grasping his arms and shaking him furiously. “When? Tell me! When does this happen?!” he shouted, making Snape flinch. “Please!”

Snape looked at him— _really_ looked at him—like he was seeing Harry for the first time. Snape’s lips parted as his eyes widened. “Harry…” He lifted his hand as if to touch Harry’s cheek but dropped it. Instead, he grasped Harry’s wrist, pulling an arm free. “I can’t,” said Severus under this breath.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you can’t? Can’t remember?”

Suddenly, there was a puff of smoke, and a letter popped into existence. It floated down to the desk next to the Pensieve. _Severus_ was written on the front in emerald-green ink.

Harry’s eyes locked onto the sealed envelope. It took everything in his power not to disregard its proper recipient and rip open the letter. It contained answers from Dumbledore. It _had_ to.

Harry’s grip slackened, allowing Snape to break away and grasp the parchment. Turning from Harry, Severus broke its wax seal and read the letter. His posture stiffened. He abruptly turned to Harry, looked down at the message once more, then back at Harry.

Harry looked at him, expectantly. “Well? What did he say?”

Another puff of smoke and a second letter appeared in front of Harry. He caught it, this time addressed with his name. Harry ripped open the parchment, eager to devour its contents.

_Harry,_

_Your future hangs in the balance. The next choice you make cannot be taken lightly. As no doubt you have discovered, Severus is your soulmate._

Harry shot a glance to Snape, then back to the letter.

_Severus has warded his heart for nearly 20 years, with no intention of opening himself to anyone ever again. When you entered his first memory, you breached those emotional wards. If not for this choice, you may never have discovered the bond._

_His life is at your mercy. Only you have the power to save him, but it is up to you if you can live with the outcome. The next time you return to 1976, it will be your last._

Harry’s chest clenched tight, knocking the wind from him, and his heart shattered.

_You are needed here. Now. Soon you will know how vital you are to Voldemort’s inevitable defeat. Without this knowledge, he cannot be destroyed. Know that if you do not let Severus go, you are sacrificing the lives of thousands of wizards and muggles alike. Your sacrifice will not be made in vain. You have the power to save lives and heal old wounds._

_Though it may feel impossible, know that happiness will still be within your grasp. All you need is to reach out and take it._

_Affectionately yours,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

How could he possibly be happy without Severus? Harry was disgusted to find that he was considering remaining in 1976. If he wouldn’t be able to come back, he could just stay, couldn’t he? He could save countless more lives if he faced Voldemort from the very beginning. However, Dumbledore’s words unsettled him. As difficult as it was to accept, he knew in his heart that it was impossible. 

If he remained, he couldn’t trust himself not to damn James and Sirius to a lifetime of punishment and regret. James may never marry Lily. Harry would never have been born. He would never have come to 1976. He would never have found Severus. Severus would be alone. Severus would die.

Harry accepted that he wouldn’t trade the few hours he had spent with him for anything in this world, even if it was all he would ever have.

Harry looked up from the letter.

The Potions Master was gone. A small scribbled note laid on the desk:

_11 June 1976_

* * *

  
  


“Hermione!”

She was sitting near the lake, piles of books strewn around her. Hermione jumped at Harry’s abrupt appearance and apparent desperation. “Harry, what’s wrong? What is it?”

So he told her. The Travel. Sirius and Severus. Accosting Professor Snape. The journey through Snape’s memories. His final realization. Everything.

“It can’t be true. Your father and Sirius would never!”

“They did.” He handed her Dumbledore’s letter.

She read intently, her expression shifting sorrowful. “Oh, Harry.”

Harry couldn’t look at her—see the pity in her eyes. He just gazed out onto the lake. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes, you do.”

He did. He just needed time to accept it.

Hermione took his hand. “We need to make a plan.”

* * *

It had been hard for Harry not to Travel on the spot, but 11 June 1976 would be waiting for him—no matter when he left. As long as his choice was the same, he would save Severus.

“Your father cannot see you, that is clear. It will be dark, so even if Lupin, Sirius, or Wormtail saw you, they would think you were James. You’ll have to find him and give him this.” She pulled out a small vial. “It’s a strong sleeping potion, like the one we gave Crabbe and Goyle in our second year.”

“Thanks.” Harry pocketed the vial.

“I sent a letter to Sirius.”

“You, _what?!”_

“I asked him if he knew why your mother fell in love with your father, as it was obvious she despised him.”

Harry had been wondering the same thing. His mother seemed gentle and kind. For his father to try and manipulate her at Severus’ expense, she must have refused him on multiple occasions.

“He said that when she heard that James rescued Severus, she finally gave him a chance, inevitably falling in love with him.” She took a deep breath. “And as much as I disagree with it, you will need to modify your father’s memory. He _must_ believe that he had a change of heart and rescued Severus.”

Harry’s face burned as he filled with jealousy and spite.

“It’s not as if your father will fall in love with him, Harry,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes. “I believe this could be the turning point for your father. The ability to feel remorse, empathy, kindness, and compassion. Don’t you want that?”

After a few moments, Harry nodded. “Of course I do. My mum deserves a man like that.”

“You deserve a _father_ like that.” She took a deep breath. “And from what I could tell, Sirius has never regretted something so much in his life. If he could take it all back, he would.”

Harry didn’t know if he could ever forgive Sirius—the man he admired, respected...and loved. An attempted murderer.

“Harry, he spent twelve years in Azkaban for murders he did not commit. Don’t you think in some way he still believes it was deserved?”

Harry knew he did. Sirius blamed himself for so many things. He was no longer that sixteen year old boy, and maybe in time, Harry could forgive him.

“Dumbledore did say you could still find happiness, right? Maybe he means reconciling your relationship with Sirius. Maybe even...forgiving your father? That would bring you happiness, wouldn’t it?”

Harry still couldn’t look at her, but she could see the pain in his features.

“Harry, you’re barely sixteen. I’m sure there has to be someone out there that will love you, and you can love in return. You have so much time.”

Harry’s face fell into his hands, “There’s no one else, Hermione.”

She placed a hand on his back, rubbing it assuringly. “I have hope.”

Harry wished he could too.

* * *

“Okay. Sleeping potion?” asked Hermione.

Harry shoved a hand in his pocket. “Check.”

“Invisibility cloak?”

“Check.”

“Time-Turner.”

“Check.”

“Marauder’s Map?”

Harry’s fingers grazed the worn parchment—the creation of his father, Sirius, Lupin, and Peter. How ironic that it would soon be used against them. 

“Check.”

They decided it was best for Harry to start in the Gryffindor Common room, in case James was still inside. If not, he needed plenty of time to find him. As much as Harry would want to see Severus, he must find James as soon as possible. 

“Now, are you sure this is the right length?” Hermione ran her fingers through Harry’s unruly hair. “I can take off more if you need,” she offered, lifting her wand.

“No, I think it looks just right. Thanks, Hermione.” As her hand dropped, Harry grabbed it with his own. “You really are a remarkable witch.”

Hermione blushed deeply. “It was nothing. It’s nothing.”

“I couldn’t do this without you. Anything really,” chuckled Harry. “You’ve always had my back.”

“Of course, Harry. Always.” She patted his cheek. “Now, let’s get you off to your next heroic deed, Harry Potter. I always did say, you _do_ have a saving people thing.” She winked.

Harry laughed nervously, running his fingers through his newly trimmed hair. “Yeah...you’re not wrong.”

“Don’t forget to swap robes with your father. From what you’ve described, yours would be a dead giveaway.”

“I won’t.” He smiled and pulled Hermione into a bone-crushing hug. “You’re the best, Hermione.”

“Add it to the list of things you owe me for,” she said, hugging him back. “Now get out of here already!”

Harry pulled back, nodding, “Okay,” he breathed. Then he threw his invisibility cloak over his head.

Hermione helped him decipher the exact number of turns for each ring that he needed. Harry couldn’t make a mistake—this was his last chance. He pulled out the tiny sheet of parchment:

_Year: 20 Turns  
_ _Month: 3 Turns  
_ _Days: 14 Turns  
_ _Hours: 5 Turns  
_

“I’m coming, Sev,” he whispered before being pulled into darkness.

* * *

Harry was thankful he remembered to take an anti-nausea potion before Traveling. He couldn’t risk the sickness effects. Not today.

If Hermione’s calculations were correct—no, of course, they were. It was 3 pm on 11 June 1976. Harry was unsurprised to find several students lounging in the common room. Most Friday classes would have concluded, and the freedom to relax after a long week was more than welcome.

To Harry’s shock and excitement, Sirius and James were at a corner table playing chess.

“Padfoot, you okay?”

Harry noticed that the handsome boy’s expression was blank, which was out of character for the ever-present smiles and laughter.

“Hmm?” Sirius’ lips turned up in a grin. “Oh, nothing. Just focusing on beating you this time, Prongs.”

James looked at him quizzically, an eyebrow raised. “You sure you’re not chickening out?”

“Are you kidding,” he laughed nervously. “I’ve been ready for this for weeks.”

“Don’t go all noble on my now, Pad. You know he deserves everything he gets,” James sneered.

“Yeah, ‘course he does.”

Harry pulled out his wand and cast a weak stinging hex to James’ right buttock.

“Youch!!!” yelped James. “Bloody hell, what was that?!”

Harry laughed to himself quietly. Even if Harry was going to alter his memory for the better, he would still have some fun until then. 

Harry watched the two boys finish two games before dinner. James won them both. Seeing James and Sirius focusing intently on the game showed Harry a side of them he hadn’t yet seen. They almost seemed...familiar. Two best friends. Like Harry and Ron.

Finally, the boys stowed the chess set and headed toward the portrait hole. Harry followed closely behind.

Once in the Great Hall, Harry stood against the wall awkwardly as hundreds of students devoured heaping plates of food. Harry’s stomach rumbled. He managed to snatch a buttered roll off an unsuspecting Gryffindor’s plate, who turned to his neighbor accusingly.

After dinner, Harry followed James, Sirius, Lupin, and Peter to the entrance hall.

“Alright,” whispered James, clapping Lupin on the arm. “See ya later, then, Moony.”

“Right,” said the sallow-skinned boy. “If this goes wrong, and you get caught, I had nothing to do with this,” he hissed at James.

“Don’t worry, Moons. We’ve taken care of everything.”

With one final glare, Lupin exited through the large oak doors and out onto the grounds.

“J-James...I think I’m going to stay in t-tonight,” whimpered Peter.

James rolled his eyes. “Why does this not surprise me? Fine. If you want to puss out, go right ahead.”

Peter winced at the jab but gave an affirming nod. “S-sorry.”

“Off with you then, ya ninny,” shooed Sirius. “If you aren’t here to help, you’ll just be in the way.”

With a squeak, Peter turned and clambered toward the nearest staircase.

“Okay, I’ll be off to find our little _Snivellus_.” said Sirius. “See you in an hour.” Sirius strode off in the direction of the dungeons.

Harry’s mouth went dry at the mention of Severus. The strong urge to follow Sirius overtook him, but he stood his ground. He had to take care of James first.

James looked around before putting a hand in his pocket—for what Harry assumed was his invisibility cloak—but his hand came out empty and he stared at his pocket in horror. “Fuck!” he swore, frantically searching the floor. “Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!”

“James?” came a female voice from across the hall. Harry turned to see his mother standing across the hall, staring in curiosity. “What are you doing down here? You should be in Gryffindor tower.”

“Evans...I was just taking a walk. Bit noisy in there ‘in it?” said James, gesturing his thumb toward the Great Hall with a smirk.

Lily folded her arms. “You know Dumbledore set a curfew for this evening.”

“That’s why I knew I’d have a chance for peace and quiet. Fancy a romantic walk around the...uh...entrance hall?” said James, opening his arms to the room around them.

Lily rolled her eyes. “No, I _don’t_ fancy. Off to the dormitory with you. Come on.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known you’d be asking me,” he said, walking toward her.

“No, not with _me._ I have Prefect’s duties to attend to.” Her tone turned condescending as if addressing a toddler. “I have to trust you’ll be a _good boy_ and do as you’re told.”

“Oh, I can be a _really_ good boy.”

Fuck, Harry did not want to hear this.

Lily’s face went bright red, “Good. I’ll be off then. Do _not_ disobey my orders, or you will be punished.”

“Promise?” growled James, raising an eyebrow.

Lily turned from him, and Harry could see a small smile on her face. “Goodnight, James.”

When she had disappeared down the corridor, James threw his hands into his hair, letting out a forceful exhale, “Fuck, me.”

Harry smacked his forehead.

James seemed to jump at the sound as it echoed through the hall. Harry panicked and pulled out his wand. _“Petrificus Totalus,”_ he whispered, and James went rigid as a board, falling to his back with a loud _SMACK_ on the tile floor. Harry winced at James’ gasps for air. The wind had been knocked out of him.

Still under the cloak, Harry hurried to James’ side. He pulled out the small vial, uncorked it, and to James’ horror, one disembodied hand forced his mouth open as the other poured the potion down his throat.

Not a moment or two later, James’ face went limp, eyes rolling back. He began snoring loudly.

 _“Silencio!”_ hissed Harry and James’ snoring muted. Harry released his anxious breath before he pulled off his invisibility cloak and threw it over James. 

_“Wingardium Leviosa!”_ Harry had never cast a spell on something he couldn’t see before, so he reached out, grasping an invisible James’ arm. Keeping an eye out for onlookers, he ushered them to the abandoned classroom where he and Severus had met. Doing his best to keep James off the ground, Harry pushed some desks together and set the boy down gently upon them.

Harry pulled back the cloak to check that he was, indeed, asleep. He released the full body bind long enough to remove James’ robes. Harry threw his own over James before casting a disillusionment charm.

Shrugging on and straightening James’ robes, Harry inspected the buttons and billowy sleeves. “How ghastly.” 

He stuffed the map into his pocket, then hid James’ wand in a desk drawer. Harry covered himself with the invisibility cloak, exited the classroom, cast wards, silencing, and locking charms in case James came to before he returned.

It was nearly forty-five minutes since Sirius left them in the entrance hall. He pulled out the map. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he whispered. As the castle revealed itself on its pages, Harry moved his gaze to the grounds. Harry found Sirius, maybe 15 meters from the base of the Whomping Willow. He did not see Severus.

As if summoned by the thought, Severus appeared at the dungeon's entrance, covered in a hooded cloak. Harry nearly fainted at the sight. He was more beautiful than he had remembered. It felt as if he hadn’t seen him in months. For Severus, however, it had been. It brought a stabbing pain to Harry’s chest as he recalled Severus’ despair when he never returned.

Harry followed ten paces behind Severus. Then they were out the door and into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So many thanks to[deaserkan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaserkan/pseuds/deaserkan/) for their lovely Chapter 6 fanart! So SPICY!**  
>  **[Check it out here!!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136823/chapters/69707898/)**

As they made their way down the cobbled steps, Harry could make out the moonlit form of Sirius, slowly approaching the twisted trunk of the Whomping Willow. After a subtle glance toward Severus, Sirius transformed, running toward the violently thrashing tree in the form of a large black dog.

Severus let out a shocked gasp as he jumped back, tripping over the stones and falling to the ground.

It was now or never. Harry pulled off his invisibility cloak and ran for Severus, grasping his arms. “Sev, are you okay? We have to go. It’s a _trap!_ They’re going to kill you!” Harry looked toward Sirius, who had frozen at the trunk’s base—his green eyes locking with the glowing yellow.

“Potter, what the fuck! Get off me!” snapped Severus, twisting to pull from Harry’s grip.

There would be time to explain. Later.

In one swift motion, Harry picked up the cursing, thrashing boy, tossing him over his shoulder. “Severus, I’m saving your life, so fucking let me!”

“Put me down!” Severus’ yanked at the back of Harry’s robes. “Potter! Behind you!”

Harry whirled around to find the black dog running for them. Awkwardly, he managed to pull out his wand. “I’m sorry, Sirius! _Stupify!”_

The black dog tripped and tumbled over the ground, landing in a furry heap on the grass. He was fine. Definitely fine. Sirius had been through far worse in this form.

Harry nearly keeled over at the sharp pain of Severus’ nails digging into his back. “Put me down! Or I swear I’ll—“

Harry set Severus back on the ground, wincing in pain—followed by a blow to the face. 

“What the fuck are you playing at, Potter?!” screamed Severus, reading his fist for round two.

Before Severus could land his next blow, Harry grabbed the front of the boy’s robes, pulling him into a fierce embrace. He burrowed his face into Severus’ neck, taking in the smell of him. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” whispered Harry, before Severus shoved him in the chest.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re…” Severus’ eyes focused on Harry’s scar, plainly visible in the moonlight. He clasped a hand to his chest and let out a choked cry as he fell to his knees.

Harry dropped to the ground in time to catch the wavering Severus. Harry combed his fingers into Severus’ hair, then settling at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a deep and desperate kiss. Harry could taste the salt from Severus’ tears. 

“It’s okay,” he breathed. “I’m here. It’s me. I’m here, Sev.” He brushed the hair out of Severus’ face, moving to kiss away the tears.

Severus collapsed against him, sobbing uncontrollably, fingers clutching to the front of Harry’s robes. “You didn’t come. I _waited_ for you. You left me all _alone_. Why didn’t you come?!”

“I’m so sorry, Sev. I never meant for this to happen. I can explain, but I need you to stand. Can you do that for me?”

Severus shook against Harry, but he moved slowly to stand with Harry’s support. He looked up at Harry’s face, tear tracks glimmering on his cheeks, but he was sneering, eyes aflame. 

“Fuck. You,” he spat, pushing away from Harry once again.

Harry panicked. “Please! Listen to me, Sev! Let me explain!”

“Why? Why should I listen to anything you have to say?!” he bellowed, loud enough to wake the entire castle. “How can I believe _a single word?!”_

“You’ll just have to trust me. I promise to tell you everything. Please, Sev. Please.” Harry choked out a sob as his voice cracked.

Severus’ months of pain and loneliness flooded his face, and his eyes fell on Harry’s, flaying Harry raw. Through the pain, Severus managed a slight nod. Harry reached out for Severus’ hand, and in a combination of surprise and relief, Severus took it.

“Now, under here with me. I know where we can go.” Harry grasped Severus’ hand firmly, refusing to let go as he covered them both with the invisibility cloak.

Harry gave Severus’ hand a reassuring squeeze as he guided them toward the castle.

* * *

“I’ve never seen this room before,” said Severus, looking in awe at the small drawing room with a plush couch sitting in front of a crackling hearth.

“It’s called the Room of Requirement,” said Harry. “I found out about it a few months ago. It’s a room that will appear when you need it. You require something of it, and it provides it for you. I don’t even think Dumbledore knows about it.”

Reluctantly, Severus stepped further into the room, running a hand along the edge of the couch back. “How extraordinary.”

Harry admired the boy before him, silhouetted in the warm, dancing hues of the firelight. He rushed toward Severus, attempting to wrap his arms around his slender waist, but Severus held up a hand.

“No. You promised to _explain_.”

Harry deflated but gave him an assuring nod. “Right. Of course. Shall we...er...sit?”

Severus moved to the front of the couch, sitting at the farthest end, leaving plenty of room for Harry. 

He could take a hint. Harry sat, leaving a comfortable gap between them. “I saw you with Sirius. In the dungeons. The day before...I was supposed to come.”

Severus stiffened with a horrified expression.

“But I didn’t see everything.” Shame flashed in Harry’s face. “I left when he kissed you. I thought you...kissed him back. So I left.”

“But I didn’t! I was trying to—”

“Break up with him, yeah.” Tears welled in his eyes. “It destroyed me. I sort of lost my shit in front of you. Future you, I mean.”

“But how do you know that?”

“He showed me your memories. Everything up until now, I’d imagine. How things were when...I didn’t come back.” Harry’s face fell into his hands, gasping through a sob. “I’m so sorry, Sev. I never wanted to hurt you. Abandon you.”

Severus reached out a hand as if to comfort him but retracted it. “Why now?” he said flatly.

Harry lifted his head. “In your memory. I heard what Sirius and James said in the courtyard after you turned to leave. They staged the whole thing, Sev. They wanted you to hear them.”

Severus’ eyes widened. “Why...would they want _that._ I’ve been trying to catch them at it all year.”

“My father said... _James_ said. They hoped you would...die. That Lupin would find you.”

Severus bleated out a forced laugh. “Right, sure. James Potter may be a steaming pile of dragon dung, but he wouldn’t go that far.”

“It’s true, Sev. Think about what my dad said. You know it’s true.”

_“That’s the general idea,”_ whispered Severus.

Harry’s fists clenched at the memory, nails digging into his palms. “My fucking piece of shit father...and Sirius.”

Severus’ face paled. “No,” he whispered.

“Yes.”

Collapsing entirely into the sofa, Severus clutched at his chest, breathing ragged. 

“And you know what’s really fucked up?” said Harry. “Everyone has to think it was my father who saved you. Not me.”

Severus sat up abruptly. “Fuck, no. No way in bloody hell.”

“I’m sorry, Sev. But it has to be this way, or who knows what future I’d go back to...or if I’d even exist at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if my father doesn’t save you, my mum would never—”

“You’re going...back?”

Harry could not hide his guilt. “I have to.” He took in a deep, shaking breath. “And once I do...I won’t be coming back.”

Severus finally broke the space between them, clutching to Harry tightly, fear in his eyes. “No! You can’t leave me again. I can’t bear it!”

Harry clasped his hand around Severus’ trembling fingers. “Neither can I, but I have no choice.”

Tearing his gaze away, Severus clutched him tighter, tears falling to the rug at their feet, “I’ve only just found you. I can’t lose you again. You are mine.”

“I am, Sev,” he said softly, placing a hand on Severus’ cheek and turning his face toward him. “And I give you all of me.” Then he kissed him.

The kiss was gentle and slow, not wanting to push Severus too far, but the boy pressed into him, deepening the kiss, thrusting fingers in Harry’s hair and clutching at his back. He pressed his tongue against Harry’s lips, and he opened for him. Their tongues twisted together, and Harry responded in kind, tearing at Severus’ robes, eager to feel his skin against him.

Their kiss only broke for them to yank off their robes, slamming into each other once again. Harry’s hand slid up the back of Severus’ jumper, growling at the feel of his soft, smooth skin. Severus let out a soft moan, and Harry had never heard anything so painfully beautiful in his life.

Harry’s skin was on fire. He could feel every inch of Severus’ body against him—feel the magic licking at his skin as they fell into each other, so deep, there was no chance for Harry to come back out alive. He was no longer Harry. He was _his_.

As Severus leaned into Harry, pressing him against the arm of the sofa, Harry could feel the boy’s arousal firm against his own growing erection. “Fuck,” rasped Harry, shoving a shocked Severus, pushing him onto his back, and climbing over him. He ground his hips against Severus’ groin as he kissed, licked, and sucked on the boy’s pale white throat. Severus’ moans were growing louder, and Harry thought he would lose his mind.

His hand slid under the front of Severus’ jumper, urging for its removal. Severus blushed as it was pulled over his head, leaving his smooth, lean chest bare. He covered himself with his arms.

“No,” said Harry. “Don’t hide from me.” 

Severus’ pale skin was flushed—his chest rising and falling with labored breathing. Harry admired his swollen lips, the glistening sweat upon his brow. Severus’s blush deepened at Harry’s hungry gaze. Then Harry bent down and took a stiff pink nipple between his teeth. Severus cried out, his back arching. Harry’s fingers found the other, pinching it lightly as he sucked and licked.

“Harry, fuck,” Severus gasped, wriggling under Harry’s touch.

Harry had no idea what he was doing. _How_ he was doing. This was his first time. Outside of the Quidditch locker rooms, he had never seen anyone besides himself shirtless, not to mention touch someone so intimately. It’s as if there was strange magic, living within him, waking at Severus’ touch. All he knew was a throbbing pull...a _need_ for closeness. He let it consume him, trusting it fully.

He kissed Severus deeply, and the boy wrapped his arms around his neck, pushing his hips up against him. He bit Harry’s lip, and Harry let out a groan. His hand slid down Severus’ chest toward his navel, then sliding up his waist to his back, feeling the shape of him.

Harry let out a sharp gasp as Severus slipped his hand under Harry’s waistband, taking his generous length into his long delicate fingers. However, there was nothing delicate about his slow, firm strokes as Harry nearly collapsed against him. He bit into Severus’ neck as his climax boiled within him. Harry had never felt anything so deliciously good. Severus’ speed increased, and Harry was shaking, barely holding himself up.

Then he was coming, pouring into Severus’ palm, spraying on his pale chest. “Fuck, Sev. Holy fuck!”

Severus slipped his hand from Harry’s pants, bringing his fingers up to his mouth, licking the cum from his long fingers.

Harry was done for. As he pressed a bruising kiss to Severus’ cum coated lips, Harry relished in the taste of it. The taste of _him_ in Severus’ mouth. Severus pushed him off, Harry looking down at him in question.

“Take these fucking things off. Now,” Severus demanded, tugging at Harry’s waistband. 

Harry jumped to his feet, yanking them down each leg and tossing them aside. Severus bit his lip as he took a look at the proud sight of him. Harry’s cock was hard and throbbing again, begging for more. Harry bent forward to remove Severus’ trousers, which slid down easily over his slender hips. 

Harry growled at the sight of Severus—naked, panting, and flushed, his stiff cock bouncing from its abrupt emergence, leaking pre-cum. Harry licked his lips. As the thought barely entered Harry’s mind, the plush sofa transformed into a large four-poster. Severus’ knees bent at the edge of the bed, erection on full display. 

Harry leaned forward and grasped the boy’s cock firmly before lowering his mouth to lick the tip of its head. Harry relished in the saltiness of his pre-cum. Severus gasped as Harry took him into his mouth, threading his hands into blankets beneath him. Harry sucked his firm head before taking him deeper into his mouth—up and down, he devoured him, Harry’s own cock leaking from arousal. 

“Harry, oh, God...Harry, I’m about to—”

Harry greedily quickened his pace, sucking and licking, rolling his tongue. Severus cried out as hot liquid poured into Harry’s throat, nearly choking him. He released Severus, swallowing all he could before coughing and sputtering. 

“You,” breathed Severus, “Didn’t have to.”

Harry grinned as he wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. “I know, but you’re just so fucking delicious.” Harry grasped Severus’ waist, sliding him fully onto the bed as he climbed over him, staring into his shining dark eyes. He brushed a piece of long hair off Severus’ brow. “You’re so beautiful. I love you, Sev.”

Severus grabbed the back of Harry’s neck, kissing him feverishly. A single tear fell down Severus’ cheek. “I love you, Harry,” he whispered against his lips. “Now I want you to fuck me.”

Harry’s balls tightened, and his cock throbbed. “Bloody fucking hell, Sev. Are you...are you sure?”

“If I only have you for one night, I want all of you. Unless—” his eyes grew solemn, “—you don’t want me.”

“Don’t you dare,” growled Harry, as he stroked Severus’ renewed arousal. “I will have you any which way you want me to.” Severus’ pinched face and moans of pleasure made Harry weak at the knee, but his grip was strong. 

Releasing Severus’ cock, Harry looked to a newly materialized table on which a glass vial sat. Harry grabbed it, inspecting the contents. Yes, the room had provided. Uncorking the bottle, Harry poured a liberal amount into his hand. The vial replenished itself, so there was no need to be frugal. 

Harry took a deep breath, looking up at Severus, who had spread his legs wide, lifting his ass for him. Harry placed his slick fingers at the center of Severus’ puckered hole. The boy shrieked.

“Sorry! Are you okay?” asked Harry fretfully.

“No, just...cold.”

“Sorry,” chuckled Harry. He warmed the liquid between his fingers before replacing them. He started with slow circles around the opening, feeling the taught ridges of his hole. Severus’ moans were intoxicating.

“Fuck, Harry... _mmmmmmmmhhhh._ Please,” begged Severus lustfully.

Harry pressed against the opening with a single finger, pushing himself into the boy. He was so hot and tight, Harry could barely bring himself to move further, but pressed on. One knuckle, then two. Then it was fully inside, Severus clamping tightly around him. Harry slowly thrust in and out, matching Severus’ breathing. As his breaths quickened, so did Harry. 

Severus was lost in the pleasure of it—crying out, begging, “Harry, please. More. I need more. Fuck me harder!”

Harry pushed in a second finger, then a third. He leaned over Severus as he thrust his fingers in and out of him. Watching his lust-filled eyes roll under his fluttering eyelids. He was using his whole arm now, rocking Severus forward with every thrust, the bed shaking.

“Fuck, yes! Harry, bloody _fuuuuck._ Please. You. I want you. Fuck me...please!” 

Severus’ desperation shook Harry to the core. He kissed the boy deeply before removing his fingers and settling between Severus’ legs. He poured more liquid into his hands—now with a warm sensation—and coated his cock. Harry rubbed more against Severus’ loose opening, pulsing and ready for Harry to claim.

Harry pressed the head of his cock against the hole and slowly pushed himself in. “Fuck!” gasped Harry. Severus was so tight. Harry thought he would melt into the heat of him. Harry felt Severus relax, and he sheathed himself completely.

The look of want and desire in Severus’ gaze was enough to send Harry reeling. He pulled himself out slightly, then thrust in deep. Severus’ yelp gave him pause.

“Shit, sorry I—”

“Shut up and _fuck_ me!” Severus dug his nails into Harry’s back, urging him upward.

Harry slammed into him, thrusting hard and deep. As his speed increased, he could feel his pleasure rumbling inside him. “Not....yet,” he hissed. Harry unsheathed himself, he grasped behind Severus’ shoulder, urging him to turn over.

Harry grabbed his waist, pulling him up onto his knees before him. Ass exposed, lube leaked from his tender hole. Harry pushed himself back inside. Severus arched his back, crying out. Harry greedily took in the shape of him, from his slight shoulders to his thin waist. Harry grabbed Severus’ hips and slammed into him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” growled Harry.

The louder Severus cried, the harder Harry pounded into him. Harry felt Severus clamp firmly around him as release took him, calling Harry’s name as hot white ribbons soiled the sheets beneath them. Harry did not waver; as his own pleasure built, it took one breathless, sidelong glance from Severus to completely undo him. He came hard and deep, pouring himself into Severus. Collapsing forward against him, Harry left gentle kisses along the boy’s back, tasting the sweat.

When he finally pulled himself free, Harry watched as his cum cascaded from Severus’ hole like a waterfall. Severus blushed at the sight of Harry’s gaze upon him. Harry laid down beside the pale boy, gently pulling him into his arms.

“I”m sorry if...it was too much.” Harry had lost control. He let his desires take over. That unidentified _magic_. If he had hurt Severus, he would never forgive himself.

“Don’t,” said Severus, interpreting the look on Harry’s face. “It was so fucking hot. Better than I could have ever imagined.”

Harry’s grip tightened around him, pulling Severus close against his chest. “I love you,” he whispered against the boy’s long tousled hair.

Severus stiffened. “So this—” he started, “—is it. This is all we have.”

Harry laced his fingers into Severus’ hair, “Shh, please don’t think like that. We _have_ this. We will always have this.”

Severus rolled out of Harry’s grasp. “No. We won’t.”

Harry propped himself up, trying to read his expression. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want...I _can’t_ bear it.” Severus was shaking again.

“Sev, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Harry’s chest clenched tight.

“Please, Harry,” begged Severus. “Make me forget.”

Harry froze. He couldn’t have heard right. No. Definitely not.

“Harry, I can’t live like this. Knowing this. The feel of you...holding you... _having_ you. If this really is the end—” He choked on the next few words, “I need you to have left me that day...with Sirius.”

The words were a punch to Harry’s chest. “I can’t do that. No!”

“You must!” exclaimed Severus, sitting up. “I could live with it. I _was_ living with it. A kiss. A memory. This...this would destroy me.” He pulled his knees tightly to his chest. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I have to forget. You aren’t the one who saves me, remember?”

“But I don’t...want to forget,” said Harry weakly.

Severus gave him a small smile, then fell against him once again, kissing him with everything he had to give. “Good,” he said breathlessly. “As long as one of us remembers.”

Harry rolled on top of him, sliding into him once again. He thrust slowly this time, painfully so. Kissing the boy he loved. Making love to him. Caressing him, feeling him, smelling him. He would keep this memory. Carry it with him always. Harry refused to forget. He would wear the pain like a badge of honor.

Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY FORGIVE ME I LOVE YOU!! 
> 
> **[***Read BONUS Chapter 6.5 HERE!***](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27961382/)**
> 
> **So many thanks to[deaserkan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaserkan/pseuds/deaserkan/) for their lovely Chapter 6 fanart! So SPICY!**  
>  **[Check it out here!!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136823/chapters/69707898/)**


	7. Chapter 7

“Harry.”

“Hmm.”

“We have to go.”

Harry buried his face into Severus’ hair, squeezing him tight. “Not yet. Please.”

“Harry, we have to,” said Severus, stroking Harry’s jaw.

Harry wished he could stay like this forever. Holding Severus against him, feeling his chest rise and fall as his hot breath warmed Harry’s cheeks. Harry slid his hand down Severus’ side, but the boy grabbed his wrist before Harry could explore any further.

“Stop,” he choked. “If we don’t stop. I won’t be able to let you go.”

“Then don’t,” said Harry, leaning into him.

Severus’ hand met Harry’s mouth. “You don’t mean that.”

“Sev, I don’t want this to end.”

“I know, but it’s as you said. If you stay...who knows if _this,”_ he gestured between them, “would even exist. The world needs you, apparently. More than I need you.”

The words stung, but Harry knew what he meant. Severus was right. It was impossible. 

Harry needed to know what time it was. Everything had to be taken care of before dawn—before James’ absence was widely noticed.

A clock appeared on the nightstand: _4:17 am_

With deep sighs, the two boys rolled out of bed, dressing in silence. Harry couldn’t breathe. Their night together had been...he would never forget it. But Severus...well.

Harry’s eyes fell on the small of Severus’ back as the boy lifted his arms to pull on his jumper. He wanted to kiss it—that small dimple right above his waistband. Wrap his hand around his waist and... 

Harry gulped. “I’m ready.” He wasn’t.

Severus shrugged on his robe, his delicate fingers shaking as he fumbled with the buttons. Harry walked over, replacing the boy’s hands with his own, finishing each for him with still, sure fingers.

Severus looked up at Harry. “Thank you.”

Those beautiful damn eyes, piercing through him to his very soul. Harry’s hand grasped the fabric of Severus’ robes, then released it quickly, taking a step back, and turning his head away.

“Sure,” said Harry flatly.

“Please don’t,” said Severus weakly. He reached his hand out to clasp Harry’s. “Don’t push me away. Not until—”

“Until you conveniently forget,” jabbed Harry.

Severus stilled. “I know...it seems unfair, but don’t you want this for as long as we have it?”

Harry’s breath hitched. Yes he wanted it. Harry also couldn’t blame Severus. He understood it was what he needed. So he could move on. Live his life. A life after Harry.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled the boy against him. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Severus’ fingers clung to Harry’s back as he kissed him, soft and sweet. Before their kiss could deepen, the room suddenly disappeared, leaving a dark empty space with a single door.

“Okay,” said Harry, clasping Severus’ hand tightly. “Let’s go.”

* * *

They were standing in front of the Slytherin common room. As one hand tightly clutched the invisibility cloak and the other firmly grasped his wand, Harry memorized the face of the boy he loved. His long, smooth hair, which fell like silk between his fingers. His sharp jaw and nose. The small red mouth, still swollen from stolen kisses. Then there were his eyes. Dark as midnight. Harry could lose himself in those eyes.

“I love you,” Harry choked.

“I know,” smiled Severus. “I love you too.”

Tears poured down their cheeks as Harry raised his wand. He took a deep breath. 

_“Obliviate!”_

Harry felt the tug at Severus’ mind as he traveled back in time. Harry felt the memories rolling through his arm, the same rush of magic he felt when Severus was near. 

_Their last kiss. The feel of his touch, his body. Eyes widening as he noticed Harry’s scar. The punch to the face._

Then Harry pushed back—the false memory…

> _“What the fuck are you playing at, Potter?!”_
> 
> _“Fuck, Snivellus!” spat James, blood spraying from his mouth. “Get out of here! Now!”_
> 
> _Severus looked ready to punch him again, but James was quicker. “Flipendo!”_
> 
> _Severus was knocked back onto the ground. “You fucking piece of filth!” he snarled._
> 
> _“For fuck’s sake, go! This was a trap. A fucked up trick to lure you here. To…” Shame flashed across James’ face. “So Moony could bite you...maybe even,” James’ eyes fell. “...kill you. I’m a fucked up waste of space. Happy?! Now get the fuck out of here! You were right about us, about Moony, and I know it’s too much to ask for you to keep it a secret, but...just GO!”_
> 
> _Severus scrambled to his feet, face stark white, nearly glowing in the moonlight. Then he ran, ran as fast as he could, up the hill, through the entrance hall, and into the dungeons, before collapsing on the floor, just in front of the Slytherin common room._

Severus collapsed in front of Harry as he released his mind. Harry fell to his knees before him, reaching a tentative hand out to brush Severus’ hair out of his face. He looked so peaceful, his breathing even. He was asleep.

“I love you,” he whispered as he pressed one last kiss on Severus’ cheek.

* * *

Harry’s wards and charms had held. He wasn’t sure if James would be awake, so he kept his cloak on as he quickly lowered the wards and slipped through the door. 

“Who’s that?! The fuck is going on! Bloody fuck!” spat James. 

He looked a fright. Harry’s body bind had held, but the boy was shaking. His hair was stringy with sweat, tear marks coated his cheeks, his eyes filled with terror.

Harry removed the cloak, pointing his wand at his mess of a father.

_“Obliviate!”_

> _Back to the entrance hall, Lily smiling as she left him standing there, completely ruined and in love._
> 
> _“Fuck, me.”_
> 
> _He ran his hands through his messy hair. He had to change. If he had any chance of making things work with Evans, he had to put this childishness...no...maliciousness to rest._
> 
> _Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with guilt and shame, recalling everything he had done to Snape. The cruelness of it. He fell to his knees, his entire body shaking with the pain tearing at his insides._
> 
> _“Never again,” he choked._
> 
> _After a few excruciating minutes, his breathing calmed. Finally able to stand, he glanced over to his invisibility cloak, laying near the entrance to the Great Hall. Running over, he picked it up and tossed it over his head, just in time for Snape to make his appearance from the dungeons._
> 
> _‘Fuck,’ he thought. He had to do something, but not here. But he couldn’t reveal himself to Snape. Not here._
> 
> _He followed closely behind Snape as they made their way down toward the Whomping Willow._
> 
> _Sirius was there, just as they had planned, waiting to lure Snape further. When Sirius finally transformed, James yanked off the cloak, running to the boy as Snape tripped over the stones…_

Harry laced up the memory, which left James panting outside the Gryffindor portrait hole before falling to the ground, unconscious.

James’ physical comatose form laid motionless before Harry. He used a scouring charm to freshen James’ face best he could, though he thought the remaining distress fit appropriately within his new memory. He swapped their robes and grabbed James’ wand.

Covering James with the invisibility cloak, he levitated the boy and guided them slowly from the classroom. This was the tricky part. It was early enough in the morning that no one should be walking the corridors, but he still had to be careful not to be seen. It took what felt like hours, but Harry finally arrived, invisible James in tow, in front of the Fat Lady’s sleeping portrait.

Careful not to wake her, Harry gently set James on the floor, snatching the cloak, and releasing the body bind. Before the boy could stir, Harry was under the cloak, Time-Turner in hand. If only he could have one last look at Severus before he left, but he couldn’t. If he didn’t go now, Harry wouldn’t be able to leave at all.

With a sharp, painful breath, Harry spun the rings in reverse:

 _Year: 20 Turns  
_ _Month: 3 Turns  
_ _Days: 14 Turns  
_ _Hours: 17 Turns_

With a final gasping sob, Harry was ripped from Severus forever.

* * *

Harry fell to his knees in front of a startled Hermione, clutching his chest as he felt something snap inside him. He cried out in pain as small hands grasped his shoulders.

“Harry! Oh my God, what happened? Are you hurt? Did you do it? Is he alright?” Hermione was terrified.

All Harry could manage was a nod as he fell into her embrace, shaking with gasping sobs.

* * *

Harry didn’t attend his classes for the entire week. Since laying down in his bed after his final Travel, Harry had refused to move. Ron and Hermione were beyond themselves with worry. 

Professor McGonagall insisted he go to the Hospital Wing, though Madam Pomfrey was well aware there was nothing she could do for him. 

Shortly after his admittance, Umbridge paid him a visit. Her wide toadlike grin grew as she took in the state of Harry’s appearance—sunken eyed, dull faced, and sallow skinned. 

“I do hope you recover, Mr. Potter. If anything were to happen to you, the Wizarding World would be _devastated._ ” Her eyes flashed with delight before turning from him. Harry glared at the retreating woman’s back. 

* * *

Harry spent his days laying in his hospital bed—not seeing, barely sleeping. When he closed his eyes, he could see Severus, feel their skin against one another. The memory of it ripped him apart. Over. And over.

Madam Pomfrey eventually prescribed him a daily dose of Dreamless Sleep. If Hermione hadn’t visited him at mealtimes and insisted upon it, he wouldn’t have eaten either. Sirius had sent several concern letters, but Harry did not respond.

* * *

After his second week in Hospital Wing, Harry refused to take his sleeping draft. He welcomed the dreams as they consumed him, bringing him to the place that felt safe—like home. Severus’ face in his palm. Kissing his soft lips. Slipping inside of him.

Suddenly, Severus was torn from him, screaming as he was pulled into darkness. Harry reached for him, yelling his name.

Harry woke with a start. His throat raw from screaming, he turned for a glass of water. His eyes locked on the clearly alarmed form of Professor Snape.

“Y-you,” whispered Harry in shock. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Snape paused, then straightened in his seat. “You’ve missed two weeks’ worth of classes, Potter,” he sneered.

Harry glared at him, “What’s it to you? You’re not my Head of House.”

“But I _am_ your Professor. Your laziness has not gone unnoticed. I refuse to excuse it!”

“So you came here, in the middle of the night,” said Harry skeptically, “because I didn’t do my homework?”

Snape’s gaze hardened. “Five rolls of parchment on the history and uses of dittany in potion-making. Due Monday.”

With a swish of robes, he was gone, leaving a speechless Harry in his wake.

* * *

When sleep finally claimed him, it was a new face that brought the safety and comfort Harry desperately desired.

* * *

“Hermione, why hasn’t Umbridge come to cart me off then?”

“She thinks Professor Snape is testing _poison_ _antidotes_ on you. I believe she hopes eventually he’ll be unsuccessful.”

“Why would she think that?!”

“Professor Snape told her, of course.”

“Why? He hasn’t been—”

“Oh, God, no! It was just something to send her off your scent is all.”

“But why would Snape lie? For _me?”_

“Oh, Harry. Of course there can’t be _any reason_ why Professor Snape would want to protect you from Umbridge.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. 

“Honestly, Harry, if you were any slower you would be going backwards. He _cares_ for you.”

“Wuh-what?”

“Ugh, fine. Eat your soup. I’m off to Arithmancy,” she said, rolling her eyes and heading toward the door.

* * *

That night, Harry didn’t take the potion. If Snape came back, he needed to be awake. As his eyes grew heavy, Harry decided to explore the wing. After, ironically, finding a book on the healing properties of dittany, Harry returned to his bed. 

Hours passed as Harry read. Snape did not come. Frustrated, Harry slammed the book closed, wincing as the sound echoed in the large room. No sound or movement came from Madam Pomfrey’s quarters. He let out a slow breath.

Determined, Harry jumped out of bed, pulling on a pair of slippers. Harry rummaged through the pockets of his robes, pulling out the tattered map. He opened it and searched furiously before discovering his target. After re-folding the map, he placed it in his pocket, walking straight for the door.

* * *

_TAP TAP TAP_

Harry stood there nervously as he knocked gently on the polished wooden door. He dared not pound it like last time. The last time had been...different.

_TAP TAP TAP_

No sound from the other side. Harry let out a sigh of defeat. He slid down against the door pulling his knees to his chest. Should he go back to the Hospital Wing? He was so tired. Maybe if he just rested his eyes for a moment…

_“Potter!”_

Harry jerked awake, discovering himself sprawled on the corridor floor. He lifted his head toward the voice, noticing the hem of dark robes. As his gaze shifted upward, he scrambled to stand at the sight of Snape’s venomous gaze.

“What, dare I ask, are you _doing_ here, Potter?”

“Sleeping, I think,” yawned Harry, running his fingers through his hair. His whole body ached from the hours on the hard, stone floor.

“Obviously,” hissed Snape, “but _why?”_

“Can I come in?” asked Harry.

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Sev, please,” begged Harry, exasperated. Both Harry and Snape’s eyes widened. “I mean—please, _sir.”_

Snape’s breath hitched. “I don’t think—”

“You don’t remember it.”

“What nonsense is this?”

Harry took a step toward the man. “Just let me in.”

Snape’s eyes shifted from Harry’s, then slowly stepped to the side.

“Thanks,” said Harry, releasing a sigh of relief. He entered the room, staring awkwardly at the spot on the floor where Harry had collapsed in sobs, not a few weeks prior. His mouth went dry.

“Sit,” commanded Snape.

Harry shuffled over to the couch and sat. Reluctantly, Snape glided over to the opposite armchair. “Now. Explain yourself.”

Those words woke something in Harry. That word he had heard before. There was always something to explain. “My father didn’t save you back then. I did.”

“So I’ve been _told._ I, however, was _there._ I saw _your father._ I would have known if—” Snape stopped abruptly.

“Yes, you would of known if it was me. You _did_ know,” said Harry. “You just...forgot.”

“I’ll tell you my memory is as clear as it ever was, Potter!” snarled Snape. 

Harry flinched. “You asked me to...to make you forget. After we…” Harry blushed furiously. _Fuck._

Severus’ brows furrowed as he took in Harry’s embarrassment. “Potter, if you don’t explain yourself, I will remove you at once.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Priori Incantatem!”

“Oh, for Merlin’s...speak sense, Potter!”

“I Obliviated you! Took your memories! Do you think that it’s possible to give them back?”

“You _what?!”_ Snape flew from his chair, towering over Harry. His hand grabbed the front of Harry’s pajamas.

Harry gasped in horror, grabbing Snape’s wrist to pull himself free. Then it was back—that familiar sensation of heightened awareness. Starting at his fingers around Snape’s wrist, his skin tingled as magic washed over him.

Snape fell to his knees, catching himself before he could fall into Harry’s lap. When he looked up again, Harry’s mouth fell open in shock. “Sev,” he whispered, reaching out to touch the man’s cheek—a man who seemed far younger than the Potions Master he knew. He was softer somehow. Not the boy of sixteen...no. There were soft wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. It was as if ten years had been washed away. Maybe more. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Harry?” he breathed.

A single tear ran down the boy’s cheek. “Yeah?”

Snape lifted a hand to wipe away the tear before resting its palm on Harry’s crown. The sensation familiar. Safe. 

“Show me,” said the man. “Let me in.”

Harry laughed, “You know I’m rubbish at Occlumency.”

Snape’s eyes crinkled as if with a secret smile. He closed his eyes. 

_“Legilimens.”_

Harry was panting as he relived the memory of that night. Experiencing the intense passion and insurmountable heartbreak as if it was only hours before. Rescuing him, leading him to the Room of Requirement—holding him, claiming him…then taking it all away...

Suddenly Harry was back to the present. Snape was panting on the floor in front of Harry, hand clutching his chest, eyes wide, face white as chalk. 

“Get out,” Snape whispered.

“What?”

“Out!” yelled Severus. “Get out! Now!” 

Grasping Harry by the collar, Snape threw open the door and tossed him into the hallway, slamming the door in Harry’s face.

Harry stood there stunned, gaping at the door. Whatever reaction he was expecting, it definitely wasn’t _that._ What did he think was going to happen? Snape would to take him into his arms and... 

He ran a hand down his face. “Way to go, Harry. You managed to fuck that right up. _Again_.” 

But he wouldn’t give up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all! Thanks for sticking with me! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Severus**

“Ah, Severus. Come in.”

“If this is another one of your attempts to coerce me into attending Flitwick’s New Year’s Eve party, you will be sorely disappointed.”

The old man chuckled, “Oh, no. I’ve given up, I assure you. This is about Harry.”

Severus froze. “What about him?” he sneered.

“The incident with Arthur has confirmed my suspicion of a mental connection between Harry and Voldemort. I need you to teach Harry Occlumency. We cannot risk Voldemort discovering the bond, less he uses it to his advantage.”

Severus’ palms started to sweat. “Bond...what bond?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled knowingly over his half-moon spectacles. “The connection between Harry and Voldemort, of course, whatever else could I mean?”

What could he mean, indeed. “You’ve twisted my arm, Albus. I’ll go to the blasted party!”

“Severus, did you just make a joke?”

He glared at the man. “I can’t—no—I won’t do it. Why can’t you?”

“The closer I am to Harry, the more he is at risk.”

“And he isn’t with me?!”

“No, I believe there is no safer place for Harry, actually.”

“Who’s the one with jokes, now, Albus. I see I have no say in the matter. I never do,” hissed Severus, turning from Dumbledore.

“Trust me, Severus. Help Harry, and you will get more than you give.”

Severus stormed from the office. _Get more than I give. What the bloody hell does that mean?_

* * *

“Six o’clock Monday evening, Potter.” Severus turned abruptly, bolting toward the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place.

As soon as he breached the threshold, he Apparated. Back on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, Severus wavered, nearly falling to his knees. One more moment in that room with them—the two people he despised most in this world—and he would have collapsed right there in front of them. His heart was pounding. 

With gritted teeth, he sneered, “Albus, I’m going to kill you.”

* * *

Occlumency lessons were going as well as Severus had expected—poorly. It was too easy to breach the boy’s mental defenses. Like putty in his hands. It was excruciating for Harry, which Severus expected to revel in. Instead, it left him feeling...uneasy.

Flashes of Harry’s childhood—his torment. “Fucking muggles,” hissed Severus under his breath.

“What’d you say?” asked a panting Harry, still sitting on the floor. What a sight it was, Harry at his feet—at his mercy. 

No, what was he thinking? 

“Get up, Potter.”

Ever since eleven-year-old Harry Potter walked into the Great Hall, Severus had been preparing himself for the inevitable fifteen-year-old Harry Potter— _his_ Harry. No. He had no right. Harry had no right. He would never be prepared enough for this.

Severus’ chest tightened at the sight of the disheveled boy standing before him. Situations like this are precisely what he had been trying to avoid all year. Harry was too close. It was one thing to control his emotions in front of his students, but if they were alone, it was damn near impossible. Severus’ fists clenched as he pushed back the urge to grab the boy—hold him.

Harry winced, taking his behavior for disdain. “I think I’ve had enough for tonight, sir.”

“You’ll never master Occlumency at this rate. You are a lazy, good for nothing waste of my time.” That’s it. Push him away. He is nothing to you.

Harry bared his teeth. “You think I _want_ to be here with you? Have your slimy grip on my mind? If it weren’t for Dumbledore, I wouldn’t be here at all. You can be bloody sure!”

The sharp words had hurt, but it was for the best. “Get out of my sight,” hissed Severus.

“Happily. Good evening to you, _sir.”_ Harry gave him a mocking bow before walking out the door.

* * *

Pulling Montague from that damn toilet was far more complicated than he could have imagined. How the boy had contorted himself in such a way without a single fracture, Severus would never know. If he was in a foul mood before, he was in an even fouler mood now.

The sight of Harry submerged in the Pensieve sent Severus into a state of panic. Without thinking, he ripped the boy away and tossed him out into the hall.

As he leaned over the Pensieve, a sigh of relief escaped him at the glimmer of the memory at its surface. There were worse memories, indeed.

* * *

They were coming back, and he needed it to stop. The occasional shot of Forgetfulness Potion was often enough to keep the memories at bay, but the repeated one-on-one Occlumency lessons with Harry had made them inescapable. Even without Occlumency, the damage was done.

Severus had reached the point of taking a glass each morning and the evening. With most of his stores of the potion depleted, he needed to brew more, and soon. However, finding the time to brew the amount he required would be nearly impossible. So, he would assign it to his Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years—assuming they were the least daft headed to brew such an elementary potion.

The Sixth and Seventh Years had all looked at him with confusion as he wrote the recipe upon the board, but they moved to work without comment. In the end, he had nearly 87 vials of Forgetfulness Potion. 

When it came to the Fifth Years, he had considered resuming his lesson plan in lieu of the Forgetfulness Potion, but as soon as Harry walked through the door, he knew he was in no fit state to teach. The students would work in silence, and he could ignore them. Ignore Harry.

But Harry was making that very, _very_ difficult. The boy’s gaze burned into him throughout the entire lesson.

* * *

Something had shifted in Harry, and it made Severus extremely uneasy. His behavior toward Severus warmed, and when their gazes met, Harry would smile. Smile! As if Severus _amused_ him.

Harry’s post-lesson advance was near enough to put him over the edge. 

_“I will always protect you,”_ Harry had said.

Severus smashed a jar onto the ground. He wished he could believe him. What was done was done. It was all in the past. Nothing could be done.

* * *

“Evening, Severus!”

_What. Fucking. Now._

Severus tried to concentrate on his cauldron of Dreamless Sleep—his most recent attempt at self-medicating—but found it impossible. His annoyed expression fell upon Harry’s intense gaze.

“Potter,” he sneered. “What do you think you are doing? I do not require your company this evening, or any evening for that matter.”

“I need to talk to you,” said Harry firmly. “Please.”

“What on earth could you have to say to me that would be of any interest?” _So many things._

“Do you remember me?”

Severus’ chest tightened, breaking into a cold sweat. “What idiotic nonsense is this? You are standing before me, are you not? I have acknowledged you by name. What do you take me for, Potter?” he sputtered.

“Do you remember me from back _then?”_

_Of course, he did._ “I do not know what you mean.”

Severus held his breath as Harry approached. “1976. Do. You. Remember. Me.” The boy had cocked his head back and forth with each punch of a word. It was so fucking cute.

“I need you to leave,” he choked. “Now, Harry.” _Please leave._

Harry’s smile nearly broke down his defenses completely. “I’m not sure why you hate me so much, Severus. I never, ever want to hurt you.”

He gulped. “Har... _Potter_ , please leave!” He pointed an urging finger toward the door.

“Fine. We don’t have to discuss it further, but I’m asking you regardless. Were you happy? With me?”

_Get it together, Sev._

“Every moment.” _Shit._

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Good. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

Upon Harry’s exit, Severus flicked his wand to slam and lock the door. He raked his fingers into his hair. “What the fuck was _that?!”_

So, _this_ Harry had been there. With him. In 1976. What did this mean? Nothing. It meant nothing. It changed absolutely nothing. Harry would go rip out his heart and trample all over it, just as he had done 20 years ago. 

Which lead to 20 long years of resentment and hatred toward his supposed _“soulmate”._ No. Nothing had changed. Harry Potter was no better than his good-or-nothing father, and he wanted nothing to do with him as long as he lived.

* * *

_BANG BANG BANG!_

“Bloody hell,” hissed Severus as he was jerked from sleep. He slid out of bed, shrugging on his robe.

“Severus, open this fucking door!”

Harry. _Fucking hell._

Reluctantly, Severus pulled open the door. “What the hell are you doing here, Potter! This is completely inappropriate. Go back to your dormitory at once!”

Harry shoved him out of the way. _Shoved_ him!

“Potter, I told you to—” Severus’ breath caught, and his stomach clenched. 

Crumpling to the floor, Harry curled into himself, shaking with violent sobs. Severus searched Harry furiously for any sign of physical injury. There was none. The state of the boy broke him, broke something inside he did not think could be broken. Not again.

“Potter...Harry...what...what’s wrong?” Severus dared not approach him.

Harry cried for a long time. Severus wasn’t sure what he was feeling toward the boy. Pity? Vengeance? Surely whatever pain the boy was feeling was deserved.

“I saw you,” whispered Harry, still curled tightly into a ball.

“What was that? Speak up, Potter.”

“I saw you. With _him.”_

“Who?”

“Sirius.”

Severus’ mouth went dry. He couldn’t move. “I don’t understand.”

“I went back. I went back, and I followed you. Followed you to…” Harry’s arms tightened around himself.

“When?” he breathed.

“Today. 20 years ago.”

20 years ago today? That would have been when…

His eyes widened, and he jumped to his feet. “Harry. Get up.”

Harry didn’t move.

“Please, Harry,” said Severus, finally lowering himself to the ground beside him. He placed reluctant hands on the boy’s shoulders. Harry flinched. “Please. Get up.”

“Why should I?” sneered Harry.

“Because I have something important to show you.”

* * *

Severus tossed Harry in front of the Pensieve. Harry would know. He would know exactly what happened that day and the days after. The pisspoor existence he was abandoned in. 

Reliving the memories he had repressed so deeply was torture far worse than death. He hoped they tortured Harry as well. Now that he knew what it was like to be tossed aside—forgotten.

Harry stood there, gaping. “I don’t understand.”

“Take your time. I know your mental capacity is mediocre at best.”

Harry glared at him, “Why do you have to be like this!”

“I’m...sorry. Old habits die hard, I’m afraid.”

Harry closed his eyes tightly. “I don’t go back,” he whispered, looking up. “I never go back. I just...leave you there. Why? Why would I do that? I wouldn’t do that to you. You have to know that!”

The words were a stab to his heart. _But you did._

Harry closed his eyes again, evident signs of concentration laced in his features. Then his eyes flew open with a gasp. “It was me. I’m the one who saved you.”

Severus blinked. _Saved me? Saved me when? From what?_

Harry grabbed Severus’ arms, shaking him violently. “When? Tell me! When does this happen?! Please!”

Severus flinched. Then he looked at Harry—face filled with fear, desperation...and regret? This wasn’t a show for Severus’ benefit. He could feel Harry’s raw emotion rattle through him. After all this time, had his tortured existence been the result of an honest misjudgment?

Snape’s lips parted as his eyes widened. “Harry…” 

He lifted his hand to cup the boy’s cheek but thought better of it. He grasped Harry’s wrist, pulling an arm free. 

“I can’t,” he whispered to himself. Harry was only a boy, and Severus wasn’t sixteen anymore.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you can’t? Can’t remember?”

In a puff of smoke, and a letter addressed to Severus appeared. He picked up the envelope, turned from Harry, and broke its wax seal

_Severus,_

_Harry holds the key to unlocking the truth of your past. Trust him._

_Affectionately yours,  
_ _Albus Dumbledore_

He looked up at Harry, down to the letter, then back at Harry. Could he really trust him? After all this time?

The boy looked at him expectantly. “Well? What did he say?”

When the second letter appeared, Harry caught it, ripping it open and reading eagerly. He shot Severus a sidelong glance before returning to the letter.

Then Harry’s crestfallen expression gave Severus pause. Before his eyes, Harry retreated into himself, devastation consuming him. Severus didn’t want to know what was in that letter. It was all too much. There was nothing he could do for Harry. Nothing he could give. With a heavy heart, he turned his back on the boy he desperately still loved.

* * *

In the next Potions class, Severus only caught Harry’s glance once. He seemed consumed in conversation with Granger, though they worked diligently on their assignment. For this, he had no reason to reprimand them, and the less attention he gave the boy, the better.

* * *

When Harry did not attend his class the first time, he thought nothing of it. Surely Harry got involved in something _heroic_ and _dangerous_ , as he tended to do. After his second absence, however, Severus was concerned.

At the end of class, Hermione Granger approached his desk. 

“Excuse me, sir. I’d like to discuss possible alternative coursework for Harry. He’s ill, and I’m not sure for how long he will be unable to attend classes.” She looked genuinely worried.

“Ill? What do you mean, ill? Surely Madam Pomfrey has cured whatever ails him by now.”

“Well, sir. It isn’t quite an illness, per se, or a physical injury. It’s more...an injury of the heart?”

Severus paled. “I see.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Her eyes welled with tears.

“And how is this any concern of mine?”

She glared at him, tears falling down her cheeks. “It should be _completely_ your concern as it is all _your_ fault!” With a sharp turn, Hermione stomped out of the room.

His fault? He had done nothing to him. But...that look on Harry’s face when he read that letter...the utter despair. But he had been perfectly fine in his next Potions class, and Severus hadn’t seen the boy since.

He grabbed a piece of parchment.

_Albus,_

_What the bloody hell is wrong with Potter?_

_Severus_

With a flick of his wrist, the parchment vanished. Not a moment later, it reappeared with a tiny scrawl of emerald-green ink.

_Go to him._

_Affectionately yours,  
_ _Albus_

_P.S. Dolores won’t excuse his absence for long. Take care of that, will you?_

Severus crumpled the note in his fist. Leave it to Albus to be extremely unhelpful.

* * *

Back pressed tightly against the door outside the Hospital Wing, Severus calmed his breathing. Harry wasn’t supposed to see him. Poppy mentioned he needed Dreamless Sleep to get any sort of rest. Unless tonight he didn’t… 

Of all the bloody nights.

His heart thumped in his chest. As hard as he fought it, Severus could not stay away. He knew that he shouldn’t have come in the night, but he couldn’t face him. Not yet.

_See how well that played out?_

Harry had looked so peaceful in sleep, but the signs of insomnia were obvious. And he was thin. So thin. Poppy said he wasn't eating properly, but he hadn’t expected _this._ He only wished there was something he could do. He was sure there was something; he just didn’t have the strength to face it.

* * *

Finding Harry Potter asleep at the foot of his door was not how he imagined the start of his Saturday.

_“Potter!”_

The boy scrambled to his feet. His glasses were askew and his hair a tangled mess. Why was he always so fucking _cute?_

“What, dare I ask, are you doing here, Potter?”

“Sleeping, I think,” yawned Harry.

“Obviously, but _why?”_

“Can I come in?”

“No.” _Absolutely not._

“Please.” _Beg._

“No.” _Never going to happen._

“Sev, please.” 

Severus froze. Harry had noticed his misstep a moment too late. 

“I mean—please, _sir.”_

“I don’t think—”

“You don’t remember it,” blurted Harry, his gaze determined.

“What nonsense is this?”

Severus tensed as Harry took a step forward. “Just let me in.”

Snape’s eyes shifted from Harry’s, then slowly stepped to the side.

“Thanks.” 

“Sit.”

Harry took a seat on the couch. Severus had no plans to join him, so he took the armchair instead. 

“Now. Explain yourself.”

“My father didn’t save you back then. I did.”

“So I’ve been told _._ I— _however_ —was _there._ I saw your father. I would have known if—” As Severus studied Harry’s face, he knew in his heart that to mistake the boy for James would have been impossible.

“Yes, you would of known if it was me. You did know,” said Harry. “You just...forgot.”

Complete nonsense. _Trust him, you say?_

“I’ll tell you my memory is as clear as it ever was, Potter!”

Harry flinched. “You asked me to...to make you forget. After we…” Harry was blushing. No, his entire face was turning a deep shade of scarlet. 

Severus shifted awkwardly. “Potter, if you don’t explain yourself, I will remove you at once.”

Harry’s eyes widened. _“Priori Incantatem!”_

“Oh, for Merlin’s...speak sense, Potter!”

“I Obliviated you! Took your memories! Do you think it’s possible to give them back?”

Sudden fury consumed him as he rose from the chair. “You _what?!”_ He grasped Harry’s shirt, pulling him close, their noses nearly touching. The fear in Harry’s eyes shook Severus to the core.

The moment Harry took hold of his wrist, the walls Severus had built up over two decades shattered. His wrist was on fire, then his arm, traveling along his skin as it consumed his entire body. Harry was there in front of him, mirroring his shocked expression. Then there was no sense of self or separation. Severus no longer knew where he ended, and Harry began. 

The sensation intensified before vanishing nearly completely—the aftershock tickling his skin. He’d nearly collapsed against the boy but caught himself just in time.

Harry gaped at him. “Sev,” he whispered.

In one word, Severus felt it. Love. Pure undeniable love. He did not pull away when Harry pressed his palm to his cheek. 

“Harry,” he breathed.

“Yeah?”

Snape wiped a tear from Harry’s cheek before resting his palm on the boy’s head.

“Show me. Let me in.” He was ready. If Harry had been there that night, he needed to know. He needed to know why he didn’t remember.

“You know I’m rubbish at Occlumency,” laughed Harry.

Severus held back a smile. _“Legilimens.”_

He was wrong. How could he have been ready?. Not for _this._ Not only had Harry saved him...he had... _they_ had.

“Get out.” He couldn’t look at the boy.

“What?”

“Out! Get out! Now!”

Without time to consider, he had thrown Harry from the room and slammed the door.

Severus’ face was on fire; sickness riled in his stomach. “No. No! No! No!”

Harry was _fifteen!_ Severus may not have been then, but he was now a man. A man old enough to be his _father._ He shouldn’t have seen it. It was a perversion.

Now he could feel Harry’s hands on him—the soft caresses, fingers in his hair, kisses on his neck. The feel of Harry inside— 

“No! _NO!”_

He had to block it out. Severus ran to his cupboard, grabbed a bottle of Forgetfulness Potion, and threw it back in one gulp. He laid down on his bed, ready for peace to consume him.

Nothing happened.

“Fuck, me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Art by[Drarry_Quite_Contrary](https://www.instagram.com/drarry_quite_contrary/)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Harry**

Resigned to defeat after forty-five minutes of waiting for Severus to re-appear, Harry returned to the Hospital Wing. Thankfully, there was no sign of Madam Pomfrey. Best his absence had gone unnoticed. 

After cleaning himself up in the bathroom, he retired the crumpled pajamas for his freshly laundered school uniform—courtesy of Dobby, no doubt. Footsteps rang out as he fastened his robes.

“Harry!”

Startled, Harry looked up at a bewildered Hermione.

“You! You’re…” she sputtered, continuing to gape at him. “Robes.”

Harry chuckled, “Yes, Hermione. These are, in fact, robes. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Her face grew more horrified at the shock of his jest. “Harry, I…” Running full tilt, she slammed into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, knocking the wind from him.

“Nice to see you too,” he wheezed.

“Harry. Oh, Harry,” she sobbed. “I’m just...so relieved! What happened?” 

_A lot, actually._ “I visited Sev last night. Professor Snape, I mean...not...” he trailed off with a tinge of sadness.

She looked at him with a combination of anxiety and curiosity. “You did? Then it must have gone...well?” Her cheeks reddened a bit.

_Shit, what was she thinking?!_

“Very poorly, actually,” he laughed nervously.

Her brow knitted. “I’m sorry? You’re better...because things _didn’t_ go well with Professor Snape?”

“Not exactly. I sort of...sprung it on him...what happened. The night he forgot. What we...”

She was now a deep scarlet. Harry began to regret ever confiding in her—but he needed someone else to know. Not just...him.

“But before I showed him, something happened. Like before. The bond, I mean...but this time was different. It was. It felt. I feel whole, Hermione.” He placed a hand to his chest as if he could feel the mended soul beneath his palm.

Regardless of how he left things with Severus, he couldn’t shake the fact that all the pain was gone. The part of him he thought was lost forever had found him. Severus. He had been here, all along. They could finally be together. Well, maybe not right _now._ Harry was determined to convince Severus. The man had to be feeling the same way as Harry—had felt the bond. Severus wouldn’t be able to stay away for long.

She smiled before shifting to clear concern and recognition. “But Harry, you’re barely sixteen. Snape is...well...not. You can’t really think that you can be with him?”

Harry hadn’t really thought about it. To him, Severus was everything. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the sixteen-year-old he had fallen in love with. They were one and the same.

“Something else happened, Hermione. When we touched—not like _that!_ When I grabbed his wrist, and the bond set into place, he was different. I don’t know how, but he looks younger somehow.”

Hermione looked at him like she was about to admit him to St. Mungo’s. “That is impossible, Harry. You just saw what you _wanted_ to see. Really,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “You’ll find any way to be with him.”

Fury was building under Harry’s skin. “Of course, I will!”

Hermione jumped. “I’m sorry, Harry! I’m just pointing out that things aren’t going to be the _‘Happily Ever After’_ you have in your mind. What will people think? Sirius would never allow it!”

“You know full well I don’t give a damn what Sirius thinks, Hermione.”

“Molly and Arthur then! Dumbledore! I’m sorry, Harry, but this just isn’t possible!”

“Do you remember what Dumbledore’s letter said? _‘Though it may feel impossible, know that happiness will still be within your grasp. All you need is to reach out and take it.’_ He knows, Hermione! Why would he say that if he thought it was wrong?”

Hermione bit her lip. “I don’t think that’s what he means, Harry. It has to mean something else. You can _still_ find happiness, even without Snape.”

Harry waved a dismissive hand and walked toward the door. “I’m done talking about this. Either you accept it, or you don’t. But it’s my life, Hermione. I’m going to live it.”

* * *

“Harry!” sputtered Ron, mouth full of eggs. “You’re here!”

Several other students had gawked at Harry as he approached the Gryffindor table at breakfast. The extended absence of Harry Potter had, unfortunately, made its rounds.

“Yeah. I am.”

“You had us worried, mate! Are you finally...are you okay?”

“I’m working on it,” said Harry with a smile.

Ron cocked a grin. “Fancy a game of chess later?” Harry appreciated Ron’s attempt at normalcy. He knew Harry would talk to him if and when he was ready. 

Harry’s mind shifted to the scene of James and Sirius, laughing over a chessboard. He found his heart didn’t harden at the memory. It was just that—a memory. “Sounds brilliant.”

“Great! Now hand me the jam. This toast is dry as fuck.”

* * *

“When did Professor Snape get so... _hot?_ ” whispered Lavender to Parvati, tossing ingredients thoughtlessly into her cauldron as her gaze followed the Potions Master around the room. 

“Did he invent an anti-aging potion?” whispered Parvati. “With a dash of skinny emo boy deliciousness?”

“Whatever it is, I’m not complaining,” said Lavender, fanning herself as the two girls giggled.

Harry’s hand tightened around the Gurdyroot, juice and slime pouring between his fingers, his glare burning a hole in the back of Lavender’s head.

“Watch it, Harry!” exclaimed Ron. “I needed some of that!”

Harry jumped, releasing the mangled root. “Fuck! Sorry. I’ll get a new one.”

“What’s up with you, mate? You’ve been on edge all class.”

Of course, he was. Severus was there. Right there. And he _refused_ to look at Harry. It was pissing him right off.

“Professor! I seem to have destroyed my Gurdyroot. Do I have permission to grab a new one?” 

Harry waited eagerly for the man’s response. Nothing. Not even a nod or acknowledging wave. He’d even take an _“It’s your fault it was ruined, Potter!”_

Fine. If he was going to be like this, Harry was going to make things difficult. He shoved his cauldron off the table with a clang, potion spilling all over the floor. Students shrieked as they jumped out of the way.

“The fuck, Harry!” yelped Ron.

Without as much of a glance in Harry’s direction, Severus flicked his wand, vanishing the potion. A spotless cauldron returned to the burner before them. On the table beside it—a shiny new Gurdyroot.

Harry clenched his teeth. Knocking his chair over, Harry stood up, slamming his fist on the table. “What’s your fucking problem?”

The room went completely silent. Everyone was staring at Harry, then at Severus. The man slowly turned toward Harry, stone-faced. “Fifty points from Gryffindor, Potter. I’ve had quite enough of this _childish_ behavior.”

The Gryffindors gasped, mumbling curses under their breath. Ron opened his mouth in retort, but a look from Harry silenced him. “And detention,” said Harry firmly.

“I beg your pardon,” said Severus with a sneer.

“Fifty points and detention. It’s only fair. I’ve been rather naughty, don’t you think, _Professor?_ I deserve to be punished.” _Oh, yes. He went there._

“Oh, shit,” whispered Seamus. Nearly everyone in the class was blushing—even Harry.

Unprovoked, Severus squinted his eyes at Harry. “I will decide what is _fair_ , Potter.”

Time for a new tactic. “You’re just a pathetic waste of human existence; you know that?”

Snape’s face paled. _Finally._ Harry had broken through, even if the words felt like a betrayal.

“Potter..” It was almost a whisper. A few beats of silence. “Detention.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile. Severus’ eyes widened. Then he turned from him, and with a wave of his wand, all their cauldrons vanished. “You are dismissed! Get out! All of you!”

They did not need telling twice. Everyone grabbed their books and bags, scrambling for the door before Severus could change his mind.

Ron tugged at his arm, but Harry brushed him off. “Go. I’ll catch up.”

Hermione gave him a questioning look but dragged a sputtering Ron towards the door. Once all the students had gone, Severus shot for his office, but Harry had anticipated it. He ran at the man, grabbing his wrist firmly.

“Unhand me, Potter!”

“Not until you listen to me!”

“I have no interest in anything you have to say! Leave now!”

“Please, Sev. Tell me you feel it too!” pleaded Harry, fury shifting to desperation.

Severus looked at Harry with as much loathing as he could muster. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Harry’s hand dropped. “What?” he whispered as tears welled.

A flicker of pain flashed in Severus’ eyes before hardening again. “I. Feel. Nothing.”

Tears fell freely now. “You’re lying,” spat Harry before storming from the room.

* * *

**Severus**

“What _now,_ Albus?” Severus pinched his brow, rubbing his eyes forcefully. He leaned against his desk, looking utterly drained.

The Headmaster approached the desk, looming over Severus’ feeble form.

“Albus, what are you doing here?” _How are you here?_

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, even with the stern expression on his face. “What do you think _you_ are doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You seem to be overflowing with ignorance as far as Harry is concerned,” said Dumbledore pointedly.

Severus stiffened, fists clenching. “What do you _want_ from me!”

“This isn’t about what _I_ want, Severus.”

Severus hissed, “I want nothing. I expect nothing. Everything is as it should be.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “As your needs and desires are obviously inconsequential, let me say this. The harder you fight against it, the more pain you will inflict on Harry. No amount of time will dull that pain—it will only grow. You’ve resigned yourself to a lifetime of suffering, but do you dare sentence Harry to the same fate?”

Severus closed his eyes. _No. Of course, not._ “But it is impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible. Improbable, yes. Never impossible.”

_“Improbable,_ then. If Sirius discovers it, I’ll be skinned alive!”

“He may never know.”

“Of course, he will! As Harry’s godfather, I doubt any time I spend with the boy, however innocent, will go unnoticed.”

“You’ll find a way, Severus.”

“Albus and his unrelentingly vague retorts. You are positively infuriating!”

Dumbledore smiled warmly. “You are the only one who can truly know what Harry needs. Not I.”

“He needs...more. More than I have to offer.” Severus looked down at his hands—his hands? How hadn’t he noticed? They were smoother somehow. Not as rough or callused. He looked up at Dumbledore.

“Have you not looked in the mirror yet, Severus?”

“Vanity has never been one of my prominent traits,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Why?” Though he wasn’t sure, he wanted an answer.

“See for yourself,” said Dumbledore. With a wave of his wand, an ornate silver hand mirror appeared in front of Severus.

He gave Dumbledore a skeptical look before reaching for the mirror. Severus avoided all mirrors when possible. He knew what he looked like and needn’t be reminded. One glance at his reflection and the mirror fell from his hand, shattering on the floor.

“What Sorcery is this?!” exclaimed Severus, jumping out of his chair.

“Not Sorcery, Severus. The exact opposite. One of the purest forms of Light Magic…”

“If you say, _love_ , I swear—”

“—love.”

Severus released a strained growl of frustration. “I can’t believe this.”

“It’s true, Severus. The bond you share with Harry took form almost twenty years ago. However, circumstances kept you separated from one another. Nearly five years ago, Harry re-entered your life. Your incomplete bond, once dormant, had awoken. Of course, you were too preoccupied with finding every fault possible in the boy to understand your own feelings. Now that the bond has set firmly into place, the years of dormancy have been absolved.”

“What do you mean, _absolved?”_

“If I’m not mistaken, I believe that leaves you, at least physically, twenty-one years of age.”

Severus fell back into his chair, “It’s impossible,” he whispered, running fingers across the smooth planes of his face.

“Ah, that word again. You have seen with your very own eyes. Love magic is unpredictable and indeterminable. There is no explanation why it may do for one what it does not for another. The point is, this is what it has done for _you,_ Severus.”

Madness. This was pure, unadulterated madness. He could feel the onset of a stress headache. No, that was an understatement. It was an _I’ve suddenly become fifteen years younger_ migraine of terror.

He took a deep breath. “That’s quite enough of your musings for one night, I think.” 

“As you wish, Severus,” said Dumbledore, leaning into a slight bow of farewell. In a blink, the Headmaster was gone.

_How the fuck was he doing that, the bastard? Couldn’t he just remain in hiding and leave him to wallow in peace._

Severus wasn’t even sure he had been there at all. He pulled out a flask of Firewhisky, taking a long, burning gulp. Blasted Dumbledore. It _was_ impossible.

Even if all this _Love Magic_ were true, Severus might be physically twenty-one, but he had still lived for thirty-six years. The answer was obvious.

Strike 1: Harry was underage. That was an undeniable fact.   
Strike 2: Severus was his Professor. Professors do _not_ get involved with their students.  
Strike 3: Be it five years or twenty years, he was too old. The Order would have his head on a pike.

That was that. Severus will stay the course and do nothing.

Suddenly, all he could see was Harry’s face looking up at him, full of tears and agony. 

> _“I. Feel. Nothing.”_
> 
> _“You’re lying,”_

He was lying. He felt everything. He wanted everything.

“Fuck, it.” 

Severus grasped a blank sheet of parchment, writing the words that would surely be his death sentence.

* * *

**Harry**

_Detention. My office. 9:00._

_SS_

Harry held the parchment tightly in his hands. His stomach fluttered, then sank deeply. What would Severus have him do? Would he even be there? Harry frowned at the thought of Filch barking at him to clean the room spotless. Or would he send for Umbridge…? No, he would never sink that low.

He’d be there. Harry was sure. It would just be a matter of... _who_ would be there—sneering Potions Master or a doting lover. Harry let out a tiny squeak at the thought, blushing furiously as he pressed his forehead against the parchment. _Lover,_ indeed.

“Are you alright, Harry?” asked Ron with a look of bewilderment.

Harry snapped his head up. He had forgotten that he wasn’t alone. “Oh. Just. Detention with Sev...Snape tonight.” He waved the piece of parchment.

“Right,” he said, squinting his eyes at Harry, “and this makes you squeal like a girl who’s received a puppy for Christmas? Are you some sort of sadist?”

Harry bit back a smile. “I was thinking about something else. Awkwardly timed, I know.”

“Well, as long as he doesn’t make you write ‘ _I must not act like a psycho git’_ on the back of your other hand, it can’t be as bad as detention with Umbridge.”

“No. It definitely won’t be.”

* * *

**Severus**

_8:53 pm_

Severus had no plan. He had no idea what he was going to do or what he would say. A safe place to start would be actually issuing the detention that was so greatly _deserved._ What an absolute nightmare. He had never seen quite an outburst before. All a desperate plea for Severus’ attention. He couldn’t help smiling. Dare he open an emotional jar of Shrivelfigs with an unstable _teenager?_ Apparently, he dared.

“Um, hello...Professor.”

Severus stiffened. Harry was early. He turned slowly toward the boy. _Inhale. Exhale._

“Potter. Please have a seat.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Harry sat without hesitation. _Hmm, so he is planning to behave tonight, it seems._ “Take the parchment and the quill.”

Harry grabbed the parchment but looked nervously at the quill. 

_Shit._ “Fuck. No. It’s a quill. A _normal_ quill.”

Harry looked up at him, clearly in relief. “Do I really have to write lines?”

“Not lines, no. You’ll be writing to Sirius.”

“What? ! No!”

_“Yes._ The man has been driving me mad. Owling or fire-calling every other day. It’s time you ended this nonsense.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Why you?”

“As the only residing member of the Order, I assume he thinks I’d have the best insight into the day-to-day life of Harry Potter.”

The boy snorted. “I’ll write lines, thanks.”

“No, you will write to Sirius. And none of that, _‘How are you, I’m fine,’_ rubbish. A _real_ letter.”

Harry stared at the parchment. “What do I say?”

“Everything.”

“What?”

“Tell him everything.”

Harry gaped at him in bewilderment. “But...I can’t! He’ll be furious!”

Better to deal with this now, before things got...complicated. “I don’t doubt it. Regardless, you can’t keep this from him. He’s your guardian. I will not take things one step further until he has been made aware.”

“One step…” His emerald-green eyes sparkled as realization set it. 

“Harry,” Severus breathed, bending forward to cup the boy’s cheek. He leaned in, his lips nearly a breath away from Harry’s. Harry closed his eyes, reaching out a hand. Severus grabbed his wrist. Harry’s eyes flew open in shock. Nose to nose, they stared at one another. 

Harry’s cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted. Severus gave him an amused smile, then tilted his head.

“Write. The. Letter,” he breathed against Harry’s warm cheek.

Harry did. Three full rolls of parchment.

There was no turning back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy Thanksgiving!**  
> 


	10. Chapter 10

**Severus**

Harry set down his quill, hand shaking slightly. He had been crying, but the tears had long dried once the frenzie of determination set in. He’d written without pause for hours. Severus said nothing—did nothing. Just sat there with him, watching him write and feel everything all over again. It was both heartbreaking and beautiful. 

When he finally looked up at Severus, all of his pain, fear, and anxieties faded away, even if for only a moment. 

“Done,” said Harry, releasing a tired breath.

Severus gave him a soft smile. “Now, was that so difficult?”

Harry gave him a dramatic side glance, as if to say, _‘Really?’_

Severus laughed, then gestured to the pages before him. “May I?” 

Harry looked at the letter, then back at Severus. “Yeah, alright,” shifting in his chair nervously.

Severus raised the letter. Reading the words from Harry’s own hand—his soul—was everything Severus’ heart had dreaded and needed all at once. The words had poured out like a waterfall, filled with endless emotion and passion. 

Severus re-lived the events of the past months from Harry’s point of view. Allowing himself to open to Harry’s true feelings and experiences, supplied every reassurance he had refused to accept. Harry loved him. It was laced into every word. 

As he moved on to the second sheet of parchment, Severus’ mouth went dry, and heat tickled his cheeks. 

“Harry.”

“Yeah?”

“You know I didn’t mean... _everything.”_

Harry gave him a playful smirk. “I wouldn’t dare assume you meant anything other than you say, _Professor.”_

That boy. That infuriatingly beautiful and impossible-not-to-love boy. “As much as I appreciate your...enthusiasm, perhaps some amendments should be made.”

Harry shrugged. “If you think so.”

Severus pulled out his wand. Slowly unraveling, the words of their first night together peeled from the page. However, instead of disappearing, they slowly knitted back together on a blank piece of parchment. As if Harry had written it with his own hand.

Harry looked up at Severus questioningly.

“It would be a shame for them to go to waste.” Severus would treasure those words until his dying day. He had seen the memory, yes, but it was not his own. This way, it would always be with him.

Severus’ heart shattered as he read Harry’s account of the following weeks. How could anyone understand the pain of losing one’s love forever as Severus had. _His_ love, of course. Harry knew all too well.

At the end of the letter, it was the night the bond locked into place, and Severus had pushed Harry away. Threw him out like worthless trash.

“I don’t blame you, you know. It’s okay.”

_“—and I will fight for him until my final breath,”_ whispered Severus. Reciting Harry’s closing words.

Harry smiled warmly. “I will. You know I will.”

“I do.”

“So, will you let me?”

Severus stared into Harry’s intense gaze. No longer questioning or pleading, but confident and sure. He knew exactly what he was asking. Severus set down the letter and slid a reluctant hand across Harry’s cheek, lacing his fingers into the boy’s soft tresses—and kissed him.

* * *

**Harry**

Holy fuck. This was agony—intoxicating agony. The kiss was so gentle, so soft. He could feel that Severus was holding back. Harry pressed forward, knitting his own fingers into the man’s long black hair.

Severus pulled back. Cheeks flushed, panting. 

“That’s it?” said Harry. It came out like a whine. 

“What do you mean, _that’s it?”_

Harry stood abruptly. “Don’t you...you know. Want to have your way with me?”

Severus’s face turned a deep shade of scarlet. “In the middle of my office? I think not.”

“Let’s go to yours then.”

“No.”

Harry’s stomach sank. “Why?”

“Why? There are a million reasons why.” 

Harry could tell by Severus' expression that he’d been fighting this internal battle for some time, and unwilling to surrender. 

Harry placed a hand on the man’s thigh. “You’re quite lovely, you know.” Harry grazed the man’s stubbled jaw, admiring his newly softened features. “How?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time.” 

“No, we don’t.” Severus grabbed the boy’s wrist, stopping Harry’s hand from sliding further up his thigh. “It’s nearly one in the morning. Far later than even a detention could be excused for.”

Harry frowned. He didn’t want to leave— _couldn’t_ leave. He needed to touch Severus. Feel him, _have_ him.

“Off to Gryffindor tower. I will write you a hall pass.” He leaned away from Harry toward the desk, scrawling on a small piece of parchment, then handed it to Harry.

“When can I see you again?”

“Your next Potions class is Wednesday next. Have you already forgotten your own course schedule?”

“You _know_ what I mean.”

Severus sighed. “It all depends on this, I’m afraid.” He gestured to the letter.

Harry gulped. Right. The letter. Sirius would murder Severus. He had hoped his words had conveyed things plainly—that it wasn’t anything that could have been expected or controlled. Sirius would have to accept it—there was no changing it.

Severus rolled and sealed the parchment. With one last labored breath, the parchment vanished in a puff of smoke.

Harry’s eyes widened. “How’d you do that?”

“A little trick I learned from Albus. Dolores would have a field day if she got her hands on something so...well.”

Harry blushed, as he leaned toward the man. “And now—“

Severus placed a firm hand to Harry’s chest. “And now we wait.”

It was done. Harry had bared his entire soul, and now he would have to live with the consequences. He could live with anything, as long as he had Severus

* * *

**Severus**

It took a good twenty minutes to convince Harry to return to his dormitory. 

“Stubborn child.”

Severus collected his parchment containing Harry’s passionate scrawls, placing it in his breast pocket.

He was barely through the door of his quarters before he slid to the floor. _Pull yourself together, man._ It was done. He had kissed Harry...and Harry had wanted to— _shit._ Severus refused to think about it and, of course, meant he couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it.

So, he accepted their bond. That didn’t mean they had to...act on it. He loved him, yes, but the boy was just that—a boy.

“Fuck, Merlin.”

While accepting Harry had eased his torment, it left him subject to a different form altogether. As badly as he wished it, he would not touch Harry, at the very least, until he was sixteen—no, seventeen. Harry would be of age, but thought still sent chills down his spine.

He pulled out the small piece of parchment, finding himself already hard at the memory of the sensuous contents. He loosened his robes, slipping a hand into his pants to grasp his throbbing cock. It had only taken a few strokes before he came forcefully into his palm. 

Fuck, he had never came so fast. It had been a long while since he allowed himself to take any form of pleasure. Now here he was, a sticky mess on his drawing room floor, fantasizing about a student. A delicious, dark haired, green-eyed student.

He was a sick, sick man.

* * *

He awoke, gasping for air. His eyes blinking madly at the wild figure above him, hands clasped around his throat.

“You disgusting Death Eater scum!” snarled Sirius, his grip tightening. “What the fuck did you do to Harry?!”

Severus grabbed the man’s wrist, summoning magic into his palm. Sirius jumped back, his hand bubbling with boils. “Fuck! You slimy, perverted bastard. I’ll fucking kill you!” Sirius lunged, but Severus was quicker. Prepared for the assault, he pulled his wand from under his pillow.

_“Protego!”_

Sirius crashed into the invisible wall, falling to the floor. He jumped to his feet, snarling, “Face me like a man, you fucking coward!”

Snape slid from his bed, shield firmly in place. “Not until you’ve calmed yourself, Dog.”

Sirius let out a forced laugh. “Calm down? You’ve weaved your twisted desires so deep in Harry’s mind that he actually believes you _love_ him? That he loves _you?”_ he spat. “No. I can see your greasy prints all over that letter. You make me sick. You may have Dumbledore wrapped around your slimy fingers, but I know the measure of you, _Snivellus._ Better than most. You don’t give a shit about Harry.” 

Sirius’ glare was venomous, but with a shadow of vulnerability underneath. He paced the edge of the shield. “The only fucking person you care about is you! A master of deception...manipulation! Who else could survive at Voldemort’s side with Dumbledore in his pocket?” Sirius punched the shield, yelping in pain.

Severus stood stone still, holding back the desire to fight back—to curse Sirius. He would not provoke him further. 

Sirius’ voice softened as he rubbed his bruising fist. “Harry’s just another one of your toys to play with until it breaks. Always using sweet words to lure people close, so you can suck them dry of everything they’ll give just to cast them aside like trash. You’ve done it before...”

_Oh. So we are going there, are we?_

Severus took a deep breath as he stepped forward, looming a good five inches above the man. He portrayed an unwavering force to be reckoned, even as his insides shook with panic. “If you read that letter, you would know exactly how I did not _‘cast you aside’_ as you so poetically put. You remember, don’t you? You thought it was James,” Severus laughed cruelly, “God, I wish it had been. That look on your face. What I would have given to rip you two apart. You talk about sweet words and manipulation...look in the fucking mirror!”

Severus paused as Sirius’ face shifted from fury to horror...almost wounded. Tears poured down Sirius’ cheeks as he fell to his knees. “Punish _me_ ,” begged Sirius. “I deserve it. Don’t use Harry as your tool for your revenge. He is not James! Do what you wish with me, but leave Harry out of this!”

“Do you hear yourself? Harry is no tool, you fucking idiot! This isn’t about _you!_ It will never be about you—or James! I don’t care about your brainless exploits that happened decades ago! I despise you, yes, but I do not wish to punish anyone.” _Except myself._ “All I want is…Harry.”

“You’re mad. You really believe this disgusting lie, don’t you?” said Sirius, softly. His brow furrowed as rage flared, but quickly subsided. His eyes widened. “Your face.”

_Ah, yes._ “My face. An absurd result of the soul-bond you so adamantly claim is a _‘disgusting lie’.”_ Severus lowered his wand and Sirius did not move.

“It can’t be true. It just can’t.”

“Oh, I wish I could deny it. Do you think I asked for this? That I haven’t fought against it for weeks...months…even years?! Is that dog brain of yours so incapable of reason? Do you truly think so low of me? But of course you do. You always have.” 

Severus turned his gaze from the man dismissively, fingers raked into his hair. “For weeks I have known the truth of my past—felt the permanent shift of the bond in my _entire being_ and have done _nothing._ It was always the plan—to do absolutely nothing. You are disgusted by me, but know this. You cannot be more disgusted than I am with myself.”

There it was. The truth of his shame twisted so deeply into his soul— _their_ soul—like a poison. A darkness encircling them that Severus could not break through.

“All this time,” said Sirius. “So, there was nothing I could have done.”

“Done? Done what?” Severus bristled. 

“I always wondered where it went wrong. Where _I_ went wrong. Even after everything. What I’ve done. What you’ve done. I’ve…”

Severus held his breath.

“I’ve never stopped loving you, Sev.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. “No, I don’t think so. This is not _love._ This is wounded pride,” sneered Severus.

“It doesn’t matter.” Sirius rose to his feet. “I am sorry. About that night. I was a hateful, heartbroken idiot. Not that it’s any excuse. Who am I to condemn you for your choices when mine were just as fucked. Plotting the demise of your ex-boyfriend. Who fucking does that?”

“If you are looking for forgiveness or comforting words you have come to the wrong place. I have no desire to have any involvement with you whatsoever. All I offer is to respect the fact that you are Harry’s godfather. That is where this relationship ends.”

Sirius nodded as his features hardened. “I do not approve of this. Bond or no bond.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“I don’t want you anywhere near Harry.”

“He is my student, he has Potions twice a week and O.W.L.s are approaching.”

Sirius frowned. “You know what I mean.”

“I have no plans to seek him out.”

“Good.”

As Sirius stepped back into the hearth, Severus said, “Of course if Harry seeks me out, that is entirely outside of my control.”

“Take control, then. I’ll be in touch, you can damn well count on that.” With a flash of green flames, the man was gone.

* * *

Severus laid stretched out on his bed, inhaling and exhaling slowly. He had consciously left his secured Floo line open to Grimmauld Place. A small part of him had welcomed the thought of physical injury or death at Sirius’ hands. Another one of his sick and twisted desires, no doubt. He hated himself for it.

Harry. He now lived for Harry, broken and mangled as he was. What was left of him to give, belonged to Harry.

Severus hoped Sirius would spare the boy. He would, of course. Sirius couldn’t blame Harry. _He_ was the problem.

“Take control,” he whispered.

What a thing to say.

* * *

**Harry**

Harry couldn’t sleep, his gut twisting with anxiety. He wasn’t sure what worried him more—Sirius’ response to his letter or the fact that Severus’ acceptance of the bond didn’t feel like an acceptance at all. He still kept Harry at arm’s length, and it was driving him mad.

Why kiss him at all if it was so _appalling._ What did he have to do to convince him that there wasn’t anything wrong with it. That Harry wanted it... _so_ badly.

“Fuck, it.”

He slid quietly out of bed, listening intently for any sign of stirring among the other boys. Ron and Neville’s snore battle was reaching its peak crescendo, muffling any chance of his own disturbance. He quickly opened his trunk and grabbed the invisibility cloak. 

It couldn’t be more than four in the morning. There was no sign of life in the common room. When he opened the portrait hole, only a slight hiccup escaped the Fat Lady, still deep in sleep. He had forgotten his map, but at least this time he had the cloak. 

As he approached Severus’ quarters, he could tell something was amiss. Muffled voices echoed from the other side of the door. 

He ran to it, pressing his ear flat against it’s cool surface. He tested the handle. Locked.

_“For weeks I have known the truth of my past—felt the permanent shift of the bond in my entire being and have done nothing. It was always the plan—to do absolutely nothing. You are disgusted by me, but know this. You cannot be more disgusted than I am with myself.”_

Harry froze. It was everything he had feared. His stomach lurched. Severus did not want him. Harry was only a burden—a sickness Severus could not cure. He wanted to run, but his body was frozen to the spot.

_“So, there was nothing I could have done.”_

_“Done? Done what?”_

_“I always wondered where it went wrong. Where I went wrong. Even after everything. What I’ve done. What you’ve done. I’ve…”_

Harry held his breath.

_“I’ve never stopped loving you, Sev.”_

A boiling heat of jealousy rumbled in Harry’s abdomen. Was this what he had wanted all along? Harry had come out of literally nowhere, upending Severus’ life in the name of...what? Love? If not for Harry...could Sirius have been his ‘great love’? His sickness ebbed only by Severus’ curt response.

_“No, I don’t think so. This is not love. This is wounded pride.”_

_“It doesn’t matter. I am sorry. About that night. I was a hateful, heartbroken idiot. Not that it’s any excuse. Who am I to condemn you for your choices when mine were just as fucked. Plotting the demise of your ex-boyfriend. Who fucking does that?”_

_‘You and my waste of a father, that’s who,’_ thought Harry.

_“If you are looking for forgiveness or comforting words you have come to the wrong place. I have no desire to have any involvement with you whatsoever. All I offer is to respect the fact that you are Harry’s godfather. That is where this relationship ends.”_

Harry’s chest fluttered, as he pressed himself flat against the door.

_“I do not approve of this. Bond or no bond.”_

_“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”_

_“I don’t want you anywhere near Harry.”_

_“He is my student, he has Potions twice a week and O.W.L.s are approaching.”_

Harry snorted. _Smart ass._

_“You know what I mean.”_

_“I have no plans to seek him out.”_

_“Good.”_

_“Of course if Harry seeks me out, that is entirely outside of my control.”_

_“Take control, then. I’ll be in touch, you can damn well count on that.”_

Harry heard the roaring of flames. He listened intently for several minutes. Not even a whisper. He took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

* * *

**Severus**

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

The gentle tap on the door echoed through his rooms. He could ignore them, ward the door, and throw up a silencing charm. But in truth, he was tired—tired of fighting. Tired of running.

He pulled open the door, but no one was there. Suddenly, something hard slammed into his chest, invisible arms wrapping around his waist. Severus shook the sign of shock from his face as he grasped and tugged the invisible fabric, letting it fall to the floor.

“Harry.”

The boy’s arms pulled tighter. “Please don’t send me away. Please.” The words were desperate and raw. How much had he heard? He had to assume everything.

He managed to close the door before wrapping an arm around Harry. He cradled his head in the crook of his shoulder. Holding him like this, he hadn’t realized how tall Harry was. He was nearly the same height as Sirius.

Severus nuzzled into the boy’s hair. “No. I won’t.” He ran his knuckles gently along Harry’s back soothingly. His _bare_ back.

_Shit._

Harry felt Severus pause and pulled back, staring intently with his sparkling green eyes. “Does this disgust you?” It wasn’t a question, but a demand.

Severus wished he could say yes, begging Merlin to spare him from this endless need. As he took in Harry’s sharp jaw and lean muscular form, he noticed the soft, rounded features of youth had disappeared. Harry stood before him, not as a boy, but a young man.

“No.” 

Severus’ resolve broke. He pulled Harry into a bruising kiss, one hand digging his into his thick, messy hair, the other held firmly around Harry’s waist, demanding the feel of their hard bodies against one another. 

He freed every repressed want and desire, allowing himself to take all of which he did not deserve. 

And he didn’t fucking care.

* * *

**Harry**

_  
Oh, fuck, yes._

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**Severus**

Severus’ skin was aflame, rippling with electric pulses that intensified with every passing second. It was intoxicating. _Harry_ was intoxicating.

Fuck, Harry was a bloody good kisser. The memory of it all came rushing back—the taste of Harry, his tongue against Severus’ lips. Twenty years ago. It could have been yesterday. Their first kiss. One of hundreds, _thousands_ more.

Harry bit Severus’ lip, and he growled, pressing his hips into Harry’s. Traveling from his lips to his jaw, then his neck, Harry’s lips and teeth pulled a rasping moan from Severus’ throat. He could feel Harry’s growing stiffness against his own throbbing erection. 

His heart rate increased, blood pumping harder and faster as he ground his hips against Harry. The boy bit down on Severus’ neck, coaxing a small yelp—Merlin, did he relish it. He was positively euphoric.

Severus grasped Harry by the waist, lifting him as their mouths met once more. Carrying him across the room, Severus threw Harry down onto the bed. Without hesitation, Severus grabbed his wand, warded the door, cast several silencing charms, and, most importantly, severed the Floo connection to Grimmauld Place. He’d be damned if Sirius Fucking Black walked in on—well—exactly what he had demanded Severus _not_ do.

Fuck Sirius. Fuck him to hell. He was done bending to what others deemed _right_ , _moral_ , or _respectable_. Denying himself what he needed, what he deserved, for the sake of what others would think? How _they_ would feel? No.

Harry was his—had _always_ been his—and he wanted Severus. The only person’s thoughts he should give a damn was Harry. And he desperately wanted to know.

* * *

**Harry**

After casting all necessary charms, Severus crawled onto the bed next to him, taking Harry’s face in his hands as he kissed him softly. The man pulled back an inch, his dark, lustful eyes staring into Harry’s sparkling green.

“Tell me what you want from me.” Severus’ eyes flashed with raw vulnerability. Was it fear? Guilt?

Harry searched his face furiously. “I want you to stop running. I want you to look at me without shame or regret.”

“So poetically put, Potter.”

“I'm serious!” Harry bellowed as he rolled over, pinning Severus to the bed. “I’m tired of your bullshit!”

Severus blanched. He hadn’t expected this; that was obvious.

“I want this— _you._ I’m tired of being brushed aside, dismissed like scum on the bottom of your shoe. This isn’t a game!” 

He was furious. Weeks of pent up frustration poured out of him, and there was no stopping it.

“You think I don’t know what Sirius will say? What everyone will think? I don’t _care!_ I don’t care. You can skip around playing spy for the Order—at the mercy of Lord Fucking Voldemort—but you can’t look me in the eye and tell me how you really feel!”

Severus’ cheeks pinked, which nearly melted Harry’s fury on the spot, but he held his ground. Harry’s eyes widened in reproach, pressing Severus’ wrists harder into the bed. _Why was it so bloody difficult?_

_“Well?!”_

In half a breath, Severus overpowered Harry, pushing him forward onto his back. Harry was prepared for the sharp-tongued retort, but it did not come. Severus leaned over him, staring deep into Harry’s anxious gaze.

“I am a spineless, witless waste of human filth. My pitiful existence is of my own making. I have never allowed myself to feel worthy or deserving of anything. For if I had, I would have spent my days drowning in the agonizing need for something I would never have again. Yes, Harry. I’m a bloody fucking coward.”  
  
Harry gawked at him. “I didn’t mean—”  
  
Severus covered Harry’s mouth with his hand. The boy’s eyes widened in shock. “I wasn’t finished,” he said sternly. Though his gaze looked upon Harry with longing. “When you didn’t come back. I…” He gulped. “What I had always believed—what my father had _forced_ me to believe—never felt more true. I was unlovable and incapable of love.”  
  
Severus removed his hand from Harry’s mouth. He dared not speak. He just looked at Severus intently, waiting for him to continue. Harry could sense the lingering words and thoughts resting behind Severus’ lips.  
  
“I loved you, and yet I had every reason to believe that it had all been a fantasy—a trick. So I ran from it. Buried it deep inside, never to see the light of day.” He twisted a finger into Harry’s hair. “Then, you were here. In front of my very eyes. How I hated you. Hated the sight of you—the _power_ you had over me. I couldn’t stand it. But through all that hate and resentment, I could not help watching you—protecting you. 

“Like a spike driving slowly into my heart each passing day, watching you share your joy and laughter with those around you. With anyone—but me. I never expected you to ever see me as more than a monster. The monster I created to keep you away—keep _myself_ away. But even after all I did to stop it, I loved you. I _love_ you. All along. I tried so hard. But I love you anyway.”

Tears poured down Severus’ face, dropping on Harry’s cheeks. Harry’s heart ached. How stupid was he to think that his mere _months_ of pain and need were anywhere near the years of agony Severus had endured. Knowing who Harry was— _what_ Harry was to him. All the result of Harry’s selfish need to know him. If Harry had not have gone, Severus would have been spared so much torment. _He_ was the monster.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Sev. I didn’t think. I never meant to hurt you. Not like this. I didn’t know.” He lifted his hand slowly to cup Severus’ cheek, and the man pressed his face against Harry’s palm, closing his eyes almost dreamily.  
  
“I know. I don’t blame you. Not anymore.” Severus turned his head to kiss Harry’s palm. “I’m not going to run from you. Ever again. If this is truly what you want—that I am what you want—I offer you all that I am. Now I ask for your forgiveness. For everything I have done that has—”  
  
It was Harry’s turn to silence Severus. “It’s okay. I deserved it. I didn’t know why, but I did. It’s okay.” He let out a small laugh. “Just try to keep the degradation to a minimum now, yeah? Unless, of course, you’re into that kind of thing.” Severus’ eyes flashed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

* * *

  
**Severus**

  
  
Harry pulled Severus against him. Kissing him furiously, fingers tangling into his hair as Harry yanked at Severus’ shirt. Damn this boy with his words and those lips...fuck, his lips. So soft and hot. Severus couldn’t get enough of it. He thrust his tongue deep into Harry’s mouth, and he responded in kind.

With the flick of a finger, Severus and Harry were left only in their pants. Harry gasped as he broke the kiss and pushed against Severus’ shoulders, lifting his chest for Harry to admire.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” breathed Harry.

Him? How could he begin to compare to the perfection that lies under him? Fuck, Merlin, he was _under_ him. Severus let out a soft growl as Harry’s fingers grazed against his hard chest. Down. Down. Down. _Oh, fuck._

Harry palmed Severus’ throbbing cock, dragging his thumb against the wet spot on his pants, drenched in pre-cum. Severus shuddered, nearly collapsing from the sensation.

“Well now, seems you’ve gone and soiled yourself. How filthy you are,” purred Harry. He grasped Severus’ cock and squeezed. Hard. Severus cried out, and Harry bit down on his neck as his hand plunged into Severus’ pants, stroking his shaft. “Is this for me? What a lovely gift, Professor.”

Fuck, Severus nearly came right then and there. “Don’t,” he panted, “call me….that.”

“No?” asked Harry, whispering in his ear. “You’ve never thought about taking me during one of our detentions? Having me at your mercy. To do with as you wish?”

“I would...never.” Oh, but he would have.

Severus gasped as Harry released his cock, pushing Severus onto his back. Harry grasped the waistband of his pants, and Severus’ erection sprung free, pre-cum smeared on his stomach. Severus blushed under Harry’s hungry gaze.

Who was this? This wasn’t the Harry he knew. The boy. No. This Harry was a young man, wanting a man. Wanting Severus. Taking what he had long been denied. What they had _both_ denied.

Harry took Severus into his mouth, his tongue lapping his slit, savoring in the salty wetness.

Holy, fuck. This was nothing like he could have imagined. The Harry in the memory had been so...well. Definitely not like _this._

Harry massaged his balls as he sucked. Severus tried to keep his hips from bucking, but he soon found himself thrusting deep into Harry’s mouth, hitting the back of his throat. He was going to come.

“Harry,” he breathed, “Stop. I’m going to—”

Harry sputtered as he pulled back, cum dripping from his mouth as Severus continued to pulse hot streaks against his own chest. Severus stared at him in shock as Harry wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He smiled at Severus, his eyes still laced with want. Then he bent down to lick the cum from Severus’ stomach, starting at his navel—slowly dragging his tongue up to Severus’ chest.

“Fuck. Merlin,” Severus gasped. “Who...are...you?” 

When did he become so bold, so lascivious? Like a seasoned lover focused purely on his partner’s own pleasure. On Severus.

Harry was straddling him now. Their cocks pressed up against each other as harry sucked on a perked nipple. Severus arched his back as Harry took it between his teeth. Combined with the pressure of Harry’s cock against his stomach, Severus was lost to this world. Deep into the chasm that was Harry Potter.

Severus thrust his fingers into Harry’s hair, crying out as he yanked the boy’s head up.

“Enough!” he snarled. Oh, he would repay the boy in kind. Tenfold. 

Harry stared at Severus’ in shock, letting out a whimper as the man’s grip tightened in his hair.

“Where do you learn such lewd behavior, Potter?” With his other hand, he grasped Harry’s jaw firmly, grazing his thumb across his wet, swollen lips. “Who else have you ensnared with your sensuous advances?”

Harry’s eyes were wide, dilated. “No one.” His hot breath tickled the pad of Severus’ thumb.

“No?”

“Just you.” Harry licked his lips, his tongue lingering on Severus’ thumb. “It has only been you. It will _only_ be you.”

Severus’ thumb entered Harry’s mouth, rubbing the inside of his lips, grazing his tongue. “So. No other cock has tasted your sweet lips?”

Harry’s eyes fluttered as he ground his hips against Severus, who was fully hard once more.

“Speak!”

“No!” gasped Harry.

Severus pulled his thumb from the boy’s mouth, releasing his hair as he rolled on top of him. Severus’ hair stuck to his sweat-coated neck. His eyes bulged as Harry wrapped his legs around Severus’ waist and tightened. Harry did not move to touch Severus. In fact, Harry rested his arms above his head, as if in invitation. Harry’s cheeks were flushed, his chest rising and falling. 

Severus couldn’t hold back any longer. He grasped Harry firmly by the wrists as he claimed his mouth, taking his lip between his teeth. Harry let out a strangled moan as his legs clamped harder around Severus.

“Sev,” Harry whispered. “Please.”

To hear his name fall so sensually from those lips undid him completely. He knew what Harry wanted. What _he_ wanted. But he dare not take it. Not unless he is told.

He kissed Harry’s scar. “Please, what, Potter?”

Harry let out a frustrated whine. 

“Harry, I need to hear it.”

Harry blushed furiously. How quickly the bold and dominant Harry Potter shifted into the meek submissive. Severus could get used to that.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Severus sucked in a breath. There it was. Those words. And yet...Severus could not move.

* * *

**Harry**

Harry saw the panic rise in Severus’ face after the words escaped his lips.

_Fuck._

“Severus, please,” he exclaimed with frustration. “Don’t you dare do this to me now.”

Severus was shaking. Hyperventilating. Staring without seeing. 

Harry propped himself up, lifting one hand to the man’s face. Severus jolted as if regaining consciousness.

“Severus! It’s okay. I’m fine. Everything is fine.” But was _he_ fine?

Severus stared into Harry’s eyes, with an unsaid apology. “Harry, I—“

“You can’t. I know,” huffed Harry, falling to his back and staring at the ceiling. “I fucking knew it.”

Severus rolled onto his back beside Harry. He thrust his hands into his hair as he let out a frustrated growl.

Harry sat up abruptly, wanting to punch the git, but refrained. “You promised. You promised me you wouldn’t run anymore!”

Harry winced under Severus’ sharp gaze, but he glared back. He could see the ever-present torment in Severus’ eyes. 

“Yes, alright! Alright!” he spat. “But you can grant me a transitional panic period.” 

Harry opened his mouth in retort, but Severus pulled him tightly against his chest. 

“Don’t worry. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Harry relaxed into Severus’ embrace. “What is it now?” grumbled Harry, nuzzling into the man’s hair.

“Harry, I love you. Know that I want to. Holy fuck, do I want to. Just, please. Give me some time. Give _yourself_ some time. We don’t have to rush anything.”

“Fine. I’ll fuck you then, shall I?”

A blush tinged Severus’ cheeks as he glared at Harry.

Harry groaned, “I know, I know. Why must you be so fucking decent all the time!”

Severus let out a nervous laugh. “You and I both know there’s nothing decent about me.”

Harry traced the sharp angle of Severus’ jaw. “When?”

Severus let out a deep sigh. “I was hoping for after you come of age.”

Harry’s head jolted up, “No fucking way!” 

That was over a year from now. Harry would lose his bloody mind if he had to keep things chaste and civil with Severus until then.

“I knew you’d say that,” said Severus, as he tightened his grip around Harry. He let out a deep sigh. “After your sixteenth, then.”

Harry sucked in a breath. That was only two months away. He could manage that, couldn’t he? 

“Alright, then,” he relented. “But until then…can we still do some stuff? Like this?” Harry ran his fingers along Severus’ sticky stomach.

Severus shuddered. “Against my better judgment, yes.”

Harry smiled as he pressed their lips together. His hand traveled lower, but Severus grabbed his wrist. 

“Now, now. None of that,” smirked Severus. “I’ve had enough attention this evening. It’s time I have some fun.”

* * *

**Severus**

Slipping into his pants, Severus’ slender fingers grazed Harry’s hardening shaft, nibbling on his ear.

Harry’s breath caught. “Sev,” he shuddered, as Severus’ ministrations strengthened. “Could you...you know?”

“I’m afraid I _don’t_ know unless you tell me, Harry.”

“Remember what I said about...um...degradation?”

Oh. So this was what Harry liked, what he desired. Had all his attempts at distancing himself from the boy only drawn him in closer? He’d loved to chastise Harry, belittle him in front of his classmates. See his brow furrow, pink-cheeked, and boiling in anger. The thought stirred something deep within. When Harry had called him Professor. Merlin.

Severus’ eyes flashed. “I see,” sneered Severus. “So, Potter. You wish for me to tell you how disgusting you are, asking a man more than twice your age to fuck you senseless. To berate you with insults until you come?”

“Yes,” begged Harry. “Make me come, Professor, please.”

Severus wanted to—was prepared to, but not yet. How deliciously wanton Harry looked, fingers knitted into the sheets. He was moving his hips, urging Severus to go faster, but he used his other hand to press Harry down firm. The boy let out a soft whimper, his eyes pleading.

“‘The Chosen One’—a pervert lusting after his Professor’s cock. You should be punished; you _deserve_ to be punished. How the wizarding world would spit at your feet if they could see you sprawled out beneath me, so wanton and ruined. You’re no hero; you are a disgrace. I have you completely at my mercy.” Severus pumped his fist hard, feeling Harry squirm beneath him.

“Oh, fuck, Sev. More...give me more.”

Severus stilled his hand but squeezed tightly on Harry’s shaft. Harry yelped.

“What did you call me?” Severus snarled.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Sir! I’m so sorry, sir. It won’t—“ Harry winced. “—I won’t do it again. Please, Professor.”

Severus grabbed Harry’s jaw firmly as he resumed stroking his cock. “You are despicable. A worthless idiot incapable of comprehension and understanding of the most remedial tasks.” He saw Harry’s eyes flash with desire. “Yet they bow at your feet. A cocky bastard strutting around as if you are untouchable. I know you better than that, Potter. I will prove to the world how useless you truly are.”

Severus felt filthy speaking the words, but he knew that Harry knew they were just that. Words. Harry’s eyes were wild, licking his lips as he reached for Severus’ face. Severus knocked his hands away.

“Don’t you dare touch me, Potter! I believe your insolence constitutes detention.” He stroked Harry firm and steady, pre-cum slick on his fingers. He grabbed Harry’s chin firmly. “And what will you have me do? Bend you over your desk and take you from behind like a bitch in heat? Or shall I force you to your knees, shoving my cock deep into that pretty mouth until you milk me dry?”

“Anything,” breathed Harry. “Everything. I want everything.”

_Bloody fucking hell._

Severus couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He kissed Harry furiously as he increased his speed, Harry clawing at his back as he thrust into Severus’ palm. His fingers lace into Harry’s hair and tugs until Harry releases a small cry against his lips. How he loved those cries.

Severus moved from Harry’s lips to his jaw, then down the length of his neck, Harry moaning and shaking violently. His climax was building. Severus could feel it. “Come for me, Potter. I demand you to come.”

Harry did. Hot white ribbons splattered his chest, dripping along his waist and pooling on the sheets. Severus slowly milked him for all that he had, ignoring Harry’s cries as he held his cock, sensitive and spent. 

Severus looked upon the boy he loved, smirking. “Such a filthy boy.” He gave Harry another deep kiss before grabbing his wand to clean them both.

“Holy fuck, that was so hot,” said Harry through labored breaths. “It’s going to be hard not to cream my pants just walking into Potions class.”

Severus growled at the thought. “Don’t worry. I won’t be going out of my way to humiliate you any longer.” 

“Oh, but you’ll have to,” said Harry, almost pleading. “It’s the foundation on which our public relationship stands. We can’t have everyone knowing we actually... _like_ each other.”

Severus returned a mischievous grin. “I guess we will both have to do our best to...reign it in a bit.” The thought of publicly shaming Harry sent blood rushing to his groin. Enough. Enough for tonight.

“Come here,” he purred, soothingly.

Severus turned back the sheet allowing Harry to slide in next to him. Harry latched tightly against his chest as if Severus would float away if he let him go. He wrapped one arm around Harry’s back, drawing sensual circles along his spine. The other combed through Harry’s hair.

“I love you,” whispered Harry.

“And I you.” Severus kissed the crown of Harry’s head.

Within minutes Harry was fast asleep. Severus smiled as he stared at Harry's innocent sleeping face. “I’ve been a fool,” he whispered.

Sleep soon enveloped them both, tightly wrapped in each other's arms. Safe and whole.

* * *

Harry cried out as he jolted upright, ripping himself from Severus’ embrace. He was shaking, breathing sporadic, sweat beaded on his brow.

“Harry?” Severus blinked furiously, clearing his head from sleep. When he did not respond, Severus grasped his shoulders, forcing Harry to look at him. Harry’s face was terror-stricken. “Wha..what did you see?” he whispered. Severus’ blood ran cold.

“Sirius,” his voice cracked. “Voldemort has Sirius. At the Department of Mysteries...”

Severus’ face paled. If he had only listened to Dumbledore—swallowed his stubbornness and pride to continue Harry’s training in Occlumency. What danger had he placed the boy in by refusing to continue his lessons?

“We cannot know that, Harry.”

“But Mr. Weasley—“

“The Order is too well prepared. The like could not happen again.”

Severus could see the internal struggle within Harry. That line between savior and sacrificer. Harry had not forgiven Sirius, that was obvious, but he would never turn his back on him. No. He would never.

“Go to Headquarters and see for yourself. Promise you won’t do anything rash.”

“But how? I can’t leave the school grounds without alerting Umbridge. Even if I could, I can’t apparate!”

“I have a direct Floo connection to Number 12. You can go directly.”

“Won’t you come with me?”

“I don’t think my presence would be wise.”

He could see that Harry wanted to fight back but he could not deny what Severus had said was true. If Sirius were there, if he was genuinely safe...they would have to discuss Harry’s letter. Maybe even the...confrontation. It was unavoidable. He would only make things worse.

“I’ll be right here when you get back. I’m sure he’s fine, Harry.”

Harry bit his lip. “And if he isn’t?”

“Then we will go find him together, I promise you.”

After a few silent moments, Harry nodded. “Okay.”

Severus canceled the wards and opened the link as Harry pulled on his pants and pajama bottoms. Severus summoned a tunic, tossing it to Harry. The boy’s abrupt arrival in his pajamas wasn’t shock enough, a shirtless Harry would surely send Sirius over the edge. Harry pulled it over his head as he approached the hearth. Suddenly whirling around, he ran over to Severus, pressing a desperate kiss onto his lips. 

“You’ll wait for me?”

“Of course,” said Severus, dragging a finger along his soft cheek. “Now go.”

Harry sprinted over to the hearth, grabbing a pinch of Floo Powder. “Number 12 Grimmauld Place!” he shouted. Green flames enveloped him, and Harry was gone.

Regardless of the outcome, one thing was clear. This was going to end very badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! Merry Christmas! xoxoxoxox


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CW: Offensive Language**

**Sirius  
  
**

As the flames vanished, Sirius fell to his knees at the base of the hearth. He clutched at his side, gasping in pain, his breath ragged. It had been worse than he’d imagined. Confronting Severus. _Seeing_ him. 

The house was just as he had left it—dark, empty, and cold—a mirror reflection of Sirius’ own soul. Not even Kreacher’s soft footsteps echoed through the halls. He felt utterly alone. Always alone. Unwanted. Unloved. Unlovable.

_Why?_

Why did it have to be Severus? Why did it have to be _Harry?_

After all these years, why did he still _care?_ His chest ached, home to a heart torn to ribbons. 

He needed a drink. 

Shakily, he rose to his feet, stumbling across the drawing-room toward the liquor cabinet.

The letter. That fucking letter. Sirius was disgusted, furious, and…Merlin, help him. He was unbearably jealous.

Harry. A _child._ Was that the problem? Sirius too old. No longer the boy of 16 he'd clung to all those years ago. And now...Severus’ face. A face he recognized from years past. He was painfully beautiful. He’d always been so goddamn beautiful.

The indisputable loathing he had witnessed behind those dark eyes. Severus saw Sirius as nothing more than an inconvenience. Inconsequential. Not a man worth wanting.

He slumped to the floor, leaning against the worn leather couch. His mother would have skinned his hide to see the state of the place. He’d have welcomed the abuse—a chance to escape the suffocating ache of loneliness—the eternal desire to want what he would never have. Never deserve.

Worthless. Weak. 

An obsession with a time long past. A time to treasure above all else in his lifetime, no matter the cost. And it had slipped from his fingers. He sighed deeply before the memories took him.  
  


* * *

>   
> “How the bloody hell are you still single, Padfoot?” teased James, eyeing all the giggling girls congregating in the clearing a few yards away. “It’s not bloody fair, is what it is,” huffed James, though clearly pleased that Evans wasn’t among them.
> 
> Sirius huffed, stretching out on the grass, hands behind his head. “Who says they're here for me?”
> 
> “You’re obviously the most popular,” said Remus, a tinge of a blush warmed his cheeks.
> 
> Remus had always been jealous of the attention he drew from the female student body, but it wasn’t like he was actively seeking it. Was it his fault he was so handsome? Sirius chuckled to himself.
> 
> “Oh, come on, Moony, if you just talked to a girl, I’m sure you’d have them fawning all over you. Give yourself some credit. You’re a good looking bloke! Especially with all those battle scars,” he teased, winking at Remus, his blush deepening. “Who doesn’t love the dangerous, mysterious type?”
> 
> “That’s still you, mate,” clipped James.
> 
> Sirius loved getting Remus riled up. He had always been awkward when it came to girls, and he’d never expressed any interest in dating, but Sirius knew he was. He’d find someone, surely. Remus really was damn handsome. If only he had the confidence.
> 
> “Seriously, Padfoot, just pick one already!” spat James. “Then we may have a moment’s peace.”
> 
> “Sorry, not interested.”
> 
> “The hell you aren’t!”
> 
> “Not my type.”
> 
> _“Any_ of them?” gawked James.
> 
> “I mean, I am partial to redheads with green eyes,” Sirius gave James a sidelong glance.
> 
> “Not funny, Pad!” James punched him in the knee.
> 
> Sirius winced as he bit back a laugh.
> 
> James sat down in the grass next to him. “Well, then. Who the hell is good enough for the illustrious Master of House Black.”
> 
> Sirius rolled his eyes. He stared up at the sky, watching the clouds float past. They were so soft and so…white. He closed his eyes.
> 
> A slight figure leaning over a desk. The smooth pale wrist peeking from beneath a sleeve, quill in hand. A long slender neck exposed as a head tilts in thought, curtains of long dark hair grasped in a delicate fist—teeth gnawing on a small pink lip. A nervous gesture of concentration Sirius admired time and time again.
> 
> How he longed to run his fingers along soft skin, brushing kisses along that pale neck. How delicious it would look covered marks of claim. To press his face into that hair. He wondered how it would smell, how those lips would taste. Maybe one day he’d know. Soon even. Nothing was impossible. Difficult. Unlikely. Not impossible.
> 
> “You know...milky white skin, dark flowing hair, eyes black as midnight, sparkling with stars. Ones you can get lost in,” his words almost breathless, heart skipping a beat. 
> 
> Those eyes. On the rare fortune their gaze would meet, he would search furiously for a mirror of want. Disgust. A natural mask for desire. That’s what James always said.
> 
> “You know, I think I know just the one. Want me to introduce you? In fact, there she is now!” said James, pointing toward the courtyard.
> 
> Severus had just stepped through the stone archway onto the grounds. Alone. Always alone.
> 
> Sirius could feel the panic set in, blood draining from his face. He sucked in a calming breath. James was too far lost to uncontrollable laughter to notice.
> 
> James couldn’t have known. He’d been so careful. Sirius sucked in a calming breath. But he’d caught Remus’ eye. Sirius quickly looked away.
> 
> “Don’t be an idiot,” laughed Sirius, kicking James in the shin. “Not in this lifetime.”  
>   
> 

* * *

>   
> “Let go of me!” snarled Severus, tugging his arm from Sirius’ grip. Sirius had caught him in an abandoned corridor, dragging him into a hidden alcove.
> 
> “You think this is a game?” spat Severus. “Insult and injury lost its charm, so you’ve conceded to emotional torment as well? Add it to the pile of shit I have to endure.”
> 
> The words stung. He had every right to believe Sirius was lying. “It’s not a game. It’s the truth! I really...like you.” _I love you._
> 
> “I’ve had enough of your bullshit! You treat me like scum in front of your friends—the entire school—” he spread his arms wide “—but you _like_ me?” Severus let out a forced laugh. “What makes you think I’d have any fucking interest in the likes of you? Arrogant. Heartless. A fucking _bully._ Not to mention...a bloke.” A blush tinged Severus’ cheeks. “Just because you have every girl fawning over you. Find yourself a thirsty cunt and leave me the fuck alone.”
> 
> It was as if he’d knocked the wind out of him. Sirius gaped at the boy, unable to speak or even breathe. Severus had always been so meek and fearful. A delicate creature Sirius wanted to covet and protect.
> 
> Severus grabbed his bag off the floor, slamming it into Sirius’ stomach as he threw it over his shoulder. Sirius winced in pain, gasping. Severus turned to leave.
> 
> “Sev, wait,” he wheezed. “Please _listen_ to me.” Sirus forced as much genuine vulnerability into those words as he could muster.
> 
> Severus froze. The short, more intimate use of his given name had shocked him. He had always been Snape, or the marauders’ favorite, _Snivellus._ He’d only paused a moment before picking up his stride.
> 
> Throwing caution to the wind, Sirius grabbed Severus’ shoulder. Spinning him around before pinning the startled gasping boy against the wall.
> 
> “I”m sorry,” he breathed huskily—and kissed him. A kiss full of want and passion.
> 
> Severus tried to resist, crying out, but the rough kiss muffled his voice. He placed his hands on Sirius’ chest, moving to shove him off. Sirius held firm. He only pressed in harder. Sirius took hold of Severus’ neck, a spark igniting at the feel of the cool skin against his palm. Severus was shaking. Though Sirius’ lips and chest pressed firmly against him, his touch was soft and gentle—caressing the smooth skin. 
> 
> This was wrong, he knew it—forcing himself upon Severus like this—but Sirius had to prove it to him. It wasn’t some twisted scheme. He wanted Severus. For so long, he wanted him. Unable to express his true feelings at the risk of losing James. He would never accept this. Never.
> 
> “I love you,” whispered Sirius against the boy’s swollen lips, unaware he had spoken the words aloud.
> 
> Suddenly the pressure against Sirius weakened. He heard the bag fall to the floor before slender fingers laced into his hair. Severus was kissing him.
> 
> His heart ached with need as Sirius wrapped an arm around the boy's waist, pulling Severus tight against him. The feel of his slight body against his...was intoxicating. Far beyond anything he could have imagined. 
> 
> He could feel himself growing hard against Severus’ belly, who’s eyes widened with recognition.
> 
> Their kiss deepened, and Sirius could feel their shared need for closeness, Severus opening his mouth for him. Severus’ fingers grasped at the back of Sirius’ robes, grinding his own hips against him.
> 
> They had to stop. They could be discovered at any moment. But Sirius found that he didn’t care. This was everything he had ever wanted. He would never let it go.  
>   
> 

* * *

>   
> Sirius had thought that kiss was the start of something beautiful—a dream blossomed into an impossible reality. Apparently, he was dead wrong.
> 
> Severus wouldn’t look at him. Blatantly ignored him in class, dismissing James’ constant baiting with snide comments and insults in Sirius’ ear. He’d bolt from the room the moment class was dismissed. He’d even taken it upon himself to sit facing away from the Gryffindor table at mealtimes. Every possible opportunity to avoid even accidental eye contact with Sirius.
> 
> After Charms, they’d nearly bumped into Severus in the corridor, his nose deep in a book. The moment he looked up and caught Sirius’ gaze, his face paled. Severus damn near ran back down the corridor.
> 
> “Hey, Snivellus! Where you going?” barked James after the boy. He turned to Sirius. “Merlin, Padfoot. What did you do to him? Rough him up a bit while I was at practice, did you?” James elbowed Sirius in the arm.
> 
> Hair tousled, pink-cheeked, and panting. That’s how Sirius had left him.
> 
> “Yeah,” he answered. “A bit.”
> 
> “Wait for me next time, will you? I don’t like the way he looks at Evans…”  
>   
> 

* * *

>   
> Sirius was losing his mind. The memory of their bodies entangled seared into his skin. He needed to talk to Severus. Soon. 
> 
> It was damn near impossible to shake James, if not for Quidditch practices. On Sirius’ next James-free evening, he was able to slip out of the common room, nearly unnoticed. A few girls eyed him curiously as he left. He prayed to Merlin they would not follow.
> 
> With Remus on Prefect duty and Peter at Gobstones Club, it looked like Wednesdays were perfect for Severus-hunting. The night they kissed, Sirius had caught him on his way to the dungeons from the Library. He was always in the Library.
> 
> And so he was, sitting in the far corner at a small table, his back to Sirius, towers of books surrounding him. As Sirius approached him slowly from behind, Severus appeared to be making notes along the margin of his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Sirius had always noticed the way he hissed and scoffed during lessons. A clear sign of Slughorn’s incompetence. 
> 
> “Don’t let Madam Pince see you writing in that book,” said Sirius playfully, leaning over Severus’ shoulder. 
> 
> The boy jumped, knocking over his ink bottle, splattering the books and parchment strewn before him. Severus turned in his seat, eyes aflame, ready to curse the poor soul who’d disrupted his solitude. His eyes widened as he took in Sirius, looming over him, smiling brightly.
> 
> “Hello, Sev,” he purred. “You've been very difficult to get a hold of. It’s almost like you don’t want to see me.”
> 
> Severus’ pointed face contorted with disgust. “I don’t! Now leave me alone, Black.” He whipped back around, pulling out his wand to siphon spilled ink back into the bottle.
> 
> Sirius leaned forward, sliding a hand up the nape of Severus’ neck. He shuddered under the touch. Sirius pushed his hair aside, exposing the smooth milky skin. 
> 
> “Are you sure?” he whispered against his skin. “I think you’re lying.”  
>   
> 

* * *

>   
> They would meet in the dungeons. It ripped Sirius apart to hide Severus away, like something filthy and shameful. But to his friends, that’s precisely what he was. He would never be able to tell them, and Severus never asked him to.
> 
> In the privacy of their dungeon cell they had grown so intimately acquainted with, they acquainted themselves intimately with each other. The feel of Severus’ soft skin under his calloused hands, his lips and teeth on his neck and chest. His hands clasped around a slender waist. Smelling him...tasting him.
> 
> Severus had been his first. Tho only one he’d ever wanted. Sirius made up stories for his friends of all the girls he’d been with. The girls he was ‘with’ when he was with Severus.
> 
> James had been pleased by the turn of events, encouraging his conquests, which blessed Sirius with countless hours to devote to Severus.
> 
> “I’m sorry,” he’d whisper against his skin, over and over with each thrust. An apology for their lie, for his friends, for himself...he’d had a part to play in this sick, twisted game. It killed him to watch him suffer—to be the root of his suffering. All the insults and the threats. Standing by...watching and laughing. Unable to interfere. Choosing not to interfere.
> 
> On the days they had been most particularly cruel, Sirius would have him soft and gentle, kissing the bruises from James’ fist, cradling him as he tasted the saltiness of dried blood on Severus’ lips.
> 
> “I’m sorry.” _I love you. I’m so sorry._
> 
> Most nights, Severus would cry after. He did not ask, and Sev did not answer. There was nothing that could be said. The tacit knowledge that nothing would change. All he could do was love him. He knew Severus deserved more. A relationship in which he did not have to hide in shame or tolerate the public abuse of the one you should trust most in this world. To be openly loved and adored. Protected. Cherished. Safe.
> 
> Sirius couldn’t protect him. He was weak. So very weak. 
> 
> He was selfish. Sirius loved him too much to let him go. But how could he call this love when it was laced with such cruelty?
> 
> It was the only love he knew how to give.  
>   
> 

* * *

>   
> “What are you saying? You know I can’t tell James. It kills me that I have to lie—to play the game at your expense. None of it is real. You know that.”
> 
> “That’s not what I meant. We can’t meet...anymore. We can’t see each other.”
> 
> “Look at me when you say that,” growled Sirius, shaking him. “Look at me!”
> 
> Severus did not look at him. “I’m so sorry.” 
> 
> “What brought this on? I don’t understand. Nothing has changed...has it?”
> 
> “I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s completely out of my control.”
> 
> Sirius was pulling Severus to him. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Please.”
> 
> “It’s too late for us, Sirius. We can’t…”
> 
> Sirius kissed him. He needed to make it stop. It couldn’t be over. Severus just needed to remember what they had. What they felt for each other.
> 
> “No! Stop!” Severus pushed Sirius away, breaking their kiss. “This isn’t right. I don’t want this!”
> 
> “Sev, please.” Sirius moved to hold him once again, but Severus took a step back. His heart ached. This couldn’t be happening. _Why was this happening?!_
> 
> “Don’t call me that! It doesn’t belong to you. Not anymore.”
> 
> _What the fuck did that mean?!_
> 
> Sirius snarled, “Fine, Snivellus. If you’re going to act like this—not going to tell me what the fuck is going on—” 
> 
> Sirius pulled out his wand. _“Legilimens!”_
> 
> Severus’ eyes widened in terror as he fell to his knees, fingers digging into his scalp.
> 
> A flash of messy black hair…glasses...a Gryffindor tie...lips pressed together as fingers laced into Severus’ hair. Fingers that weren’t his own. It was—
> 
> Sirius stumbled back, unable to process what he had just seen. “James,” he whispered. “It’s James.”
> 
> Severus looked up at him, horrified. “No, it’s not what you think.”
> 
> Sirius clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. “I saw him! Don’t you fucking lie to my face!”
> 
> Severus flinched but did not look away.
> 
> “I’ve had enough of this. Fuck you! Fuck James. God, dammit!”
> 
> Sirius punched the wall. He felt the bones shatter along with what was left of his heart.  
>   
> 

* * *

>   
> After a visit to the Hospital Wing to mend his mangled fist, Sirius stormed for Gryffindor tower.
> 
> James was his friend. No. His brother. How could he do this? James hated Severus! But to the rest of the world, so did Sirius.
> 
> “Laryngitis!” he bellowed at the Fat Lady.
> 
> “I mean, really! No need to get cheeky,” she huffed, swinging open for him.
> 
> The common room was empty; everyone was clearly in bed. Good. The fewer witnesses, the better.
> 
> He opened the door to their dormitory with a _BANG!_ James was lounging on his bed, playing with that goddamn snitch. 
> 
> Remus looked up from his book, disappointment evident on his face. “Cutting it close there, aren’t you?” he said stiffly, slamming his book shut. Always the perfect Prefect.
> 
> “Padfoot! There you are! So, how was she?” said James, wiggling his eyebrows as he bucked his hips. James’ face fell as Sirius approached him, wild with fury. “What the fuck happ—”
> 
> Sirius decked James square in the face. He rolled off the side of the bed, crashing into the nightstand.
> 
> Remus yelped, jumping from his bed to James’ side, helping him back to his feet.
> 
> “What the actual fuck, Sirius!” spat Remus, turning to inspect James. Blood was pouring from his nose. “We have to get you to the Hospital Wing.” He mended James’ broken glasses, placing them back on his nose. James winced. “Sorry! Sorry!”
> 
> James rounded on Sirius, “What the fuck?!” he yelled, blood spraying. He shoved Sirius in the chest, but he wouldn’t be moved so easily. “What’s your problem?!”
> 
> Sirius grabbed the front of James’ pajamas. “I know about Severus, Prongs!”
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “I know what you did to him!” He shook James violently, the blood flowed freely now, dripping onto Sirius’ fist.
> 
> “Sirius, please! Stop this!” begged Remus, terrified.
> 
> “So, I knocked him around a bit! Not my fault you were in detention!” snarled James, bewildered.
> 
> _Oh, it fucking was._ It was always _James’_ fault.
> 
> Sirius bared his teeth. “So you beat him up, did you? Roughed him up until he was bruised and begging?!”
> 
> “Yeah? What of it?” James shoved him off, spitting on the ground. “Like that’s anything new!”
> 
> Sirius approached him slowly, nearly nose to nose. “Is that what you get off on, Prongs? Beating him bloody before you lick his wounds, whispering sweet apologies to excuse your sadistic desires?” The words hit far too close to home.
> 
> James blanched, “The fuck...lick... _Snivellus?!_ Sadistic...what the fuck are you on about, Pad?!”
> 
> “Does he scream out your name as you spill yourself into him? Or does he cry out, begging you to stop? You make me _sick!”_
> 
> “The _fuck?!”_
> 
> Remus looked nervously between the boys, noting the hurt behind the fury in Sirius’ gaze...the jealousy.
> 
> “Just forget it. It’s done.” Sirius turned away. He couldn’t look at him.
> 
> “What’s done?!” exclaimed James. “Whatever the fuck you think I did, didn’t happen! Did the slimy git tell you something? You think I’d stick my cock in his filthy ass-cunt? I’m no poofter!” He spat again. “If that cocksucker is spreading rumors, I’m going to kill him.”
> 
> Remus pulled out a handkerchief, hands shaking. “James, please. You’re bleeding. Let’s go to the Hospital Wing,” said Remus, wiping James’ mouth like a child. He eyed Sirius warily. Remus knew something was off. He’d always been able to read him so well.
> 
> Sirius didn’t understand. James wasn’t taking the bait. Was it all a lie? Did Severus alter his own memories to cause a rift between Sirius and James? Suddenly, it was obvious. He didn’t want to hurt Sirius; Severus wanted to destroy him.
> 
> “Snivellus will pay for what he did to me,” snarled Sirius. Now all he saw was red. Red as deep as the blood dripping down James’ face. He would crush Severus, just as he’d crushed his heart.
> 
> James brushed off Remus. A mischievous smile quirked on his blood-smeared face. He looked positively unhinged as he slowly approached Sirius, sneer broadening.
> 
> “Oh, yeah?” he said, eyes flashing. “What’d he do, Pad? The little faggot come onto you? Bend his sweet ass over for you? Ask to suck your cock? How lovely it would be to see Snivellus on his knees.”
> 
> Remus sucked in a breath. Sirius’ blood ran cold. He didn’t dare speak.
> 
> “You know what, I don’t care. If it’s Snivellus’ hide you’re after, you know I’m in,” said James, licking the blood from his lips. “What’s the plan?”  
>   
> 

* * *

  
Sirius sighed as he uncorked the bottle of Firewhisky, relishing in the burning heat in his throat and belly, dulling the pain of old wounds ripped open and raw. He wished things had been different. So many things he could have said and done, but didn’t. If only he hadn’t been such a coward. He’d always chosen James over Severus. Underneath all the pain, hate, and resentment, he still loved him. Sirius had never imagined a life without Severus.

But Severus deserved a life without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments! Your support is much appreciated! ( T u T )


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to post this. I had a bit of a mental health crisis, so my life went into hell in a handbasket right quick. This was a difficult chapter to get through (so many feels), but I am happy with the result. I apologize that it isn't as long as my usual chapters, but I've sat on it for far too long. The worst is nearly over...I think? XD
> 
> <3<3<3
> 
> **CW: Graphic Depictions of Violence**

**Severus**

The moment Harry disappears, Severus lets out a labored breath. He raises his wand, summoning a quill and parchment. First, Dumbledore. He would need to know—may know already. Second, the only other person who would give a rat’s ass about Sirius’ safety, as well as Harry’s. After a few quick scrawls, he folded the letters, which vanished in puffs of smoke.

This “dream” was clearly a trap to lure Harry to the Department of Mysteries. If Severus’ deductions were correct, as they often were, it had everything to do with the Prophecy. Severus had only witnessed and relayed a fragment, thank Merlin, and Dumbledore did not dare reveal it in its entirety. If the Dark Lord wanted the Prophecy, he would have to obtain it for himself. However, he would not risk revealing himself so publicly to attempt its retrieval. Not yet. He would require another. He would need Harry.

Severus was no fool. He’d witnessed firsthand countless schemings and musings of the Dark Lord and his followers. He was confident that Harry was in no immediate danger as long as he heeded Severus’ words. No need to go galavanting around the Ministry in search of a man not worth saving. 

Severus ground his teeth, taking a deep breath. Sirius would be safe and sound in his moldy ancient hovel, where he and Harry would have a lovely chat over tea and biscuits. As little regard or trust he had for the man, Sirius would never harm Harry. Of that, he was certain. He would never blame Harry. This was purely between Sirius and himself—as it had always been.

Severus hissed as he tore back the sheets, twisting his body to sit at the edge of the bed. His gaze fell to the floor where Sirius had knelt before him only hours before. Sirius and his God-forsaken  _ confession.  _ What absolute  _ bollocks. _ After all this time, what did Sirius think would happen? How delusional to believe he could have any love for him in return. Love. Severus spat on the floor.

How blind and  _ stupid  _ he had been to think what Sirius gave him had been anything remotely close to love. But back then, how could he have known? His father had not loved him. His mother did not dare try. There had been Lily, of course, but that had been doomed from the very beginning.

Obsession. Possession. Desire. Never love.

He hadn’t even wanted it; the very thought disgusted him even now—Sirius and his little gang—who had made his years at Hogwarts a living hell. Yet, Sirius had wanted him? It was absurd, but Severus had never felt wanted in his entire life. Worthless. Insignificant. Who was Severus to deny the chance to feel even an ounce of that want when it very well could be his last? No matter what he had sacrificed of himself in the process.

_ You fool _ . Among the long list of reasons Severus despised himself. To have been so broken, so starved for affection. Sirius had prayed on that need—the void carved deep into Severus’ soul, desperate to be filled. Why take someone willing and fleeting when you could have someone who would rely on you so thoroughly to feel...well...anything.

Sirius took advantage of the empty, broken boy who didn’t have the strength to say no. Stood by as his friend left Severus bruised and battered; as if all could be forgiven with empty apologies, sweet words, and gentle caresses. And he had let him anyway. But Severus refused to blame himself. It had all been of Sirius’ design. He would never forgive him, nor ever forget.

Severus laid back onto the bed, fingers gripping tightly in the sheets as he calmed his breathing. Breathing in Harry.  _ Oh, Harry. _ None of that mattered now. Only Harry. Severus ran his fingers slowly along the mess of sheets where Harry had laid beside him. A face so innocent, beautiful. The gentle curve of his lips. Messy tresses strewn across his pillow. The slow rise and fall of his chest in sleep. The delicate flutter of his lashes as he dreamed...

Severus’ blood ran cold. Regardless of his confidence in Sirius’ safety, Voldemort had played his hand, and Harry was the prize. If the Dark Lord’s plan were foiled, another would promptly follow. There was only one way to ensure Harry’s immediate safety and Voldemort’s ignorance.

His mind set, Severus vaulted off the bed and threw open his wardrobe. Grabbing a fresh set of robes, he dressed quickly. With a flick of his wand, he renewed the Floo connection to Spinner’s End. It remained open for Number 12, explicitly restricted to  _ only  _ Harry. Another pleasant visit from Sirius Black could hold off for another day.

He paused, thoughts remaining on Harry. Cursing himself, Severus considered his words—another promise he would not keep.

_ ‘You’ll wait for me?’ _

The desperate look on Harry’s face. In that moment, Severus knew he needed assurance. To know that Severus wouldn’t vanish into smoke, as if what had passed between them had never happened. His heart ached. He’d been determined never to hurt Harry again, knowing full well this decision would do just that. 

Summoning a quill and parchment, he scrawled a quick note, placing it on the bed. Harry would forgive him. He would understand this was for him. A sacrifice for a future Severus hoped still lay before them.

Noticing the shimmering fabric discarded on the floor, Severus collected Harry’s invisibility cloak. With one final glance at the rumpled sheets, the flames enveloped him whole.

* * *

**Harry**

Harry stumbled out of the fire into the dark, damp drawing-room of Number 12. His bare feet slapped against the stone floor, echoing into what appeared to be a vacant dwelling. Harry’s chest clenched tight as he desperately searched the room for any sign of movement. The lanterns lit immediately with another reluctant step into the room.

No Sirius.

“Sirius!” yelled Harry, running from the empty room and into the hallway. Harry ran to the base of the stairs. “Sirius, answer me! Are you here?!”

“Harry?” mumbled a voice from down the hall.

Harry let out a sigh of relief as Sirius appeared in the doorway of the study. He teetered slightly before leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Thank, Merlin,” whispered Harry, running up to the man. He grasped Sirius’ shoulders, giving him a once over before resting his gaze upon his godfather’s vacant expression. “Are you alright?”

“Physically,” he said solemnly.

Of course, he wasn’t alright. Harry had heard nearly everything that transpired between Sirius and Severus. Shoving his jealousy and resentment aside, Harry exclaimed, “I had a dream. Voldemort had you—was torturing you! At the Department of Mysteries!”

Sirius blinked. “What? But I’ve...I’ve been here, haven't I?”

Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Are you...drunk?” He regarded the sallow skin, eyes unfocused. “Shit,” Harry whispered. He half-dragged the man back into the drawing-room, letting him collapse onto a nearby sofa.

Harry knelt before him. “Are you really alright? If you’re not...feeling well, I can get Severus, and he’ll be able—“

“What?” choked Sirius, lifting his head, focusing on Harry. “What did you say?”

“He can help. I’ll go back and…” Harry paused, noting the shift from disorientation to realization on Sirius’ face.

“You didn’t just,” Sirius gave Harry a once over, taking in his bare feet, messy hair, pajama bottoms, and...Severus’ tunic. The one he had been wearing when Sirius…

Harry’s cheeks heated. He hadn’t been thinking. Get to Sirius. Find him. Save him. There hadn’t been time to consider his state of dress—or lack thereof—the message it would send. Like a bloody brand on his forehead: 

_ JUST FUCKED SEVERUS SNAPE. _

Sirius lunged forward, grabbing the front of Severus’ shirt. “What did he do to you?! Harry, did he…” Sirius’ eyes inspected his neck and exposed chest. Harry gulped, knowing full well the evidence to be found there. “...did he  _ force  _ himself on you?” Sirius snarled.

“Wh-what?” Harry sputtered, gaping in horror. “No! Of fucking course not! He didn’t do anything! I was the one that—”

_ “You?” _ Sirius’ grip tightened on the shirt, pulling Harry forward, the collar digging into his neck. 

Harry grabbed at his wrist, desperately trying to pull free. “Sirius, please! Let go! I can explain—”

“Spread those legs willingly, did you?” Sirius snarled, “Or did he?”

Harry’s voice caught in his throat as his eyes widened. He’d never seen Sirius like this. Gone was the kind, handsome face of his godfather, replaced with undiluted venom and viciousness. Before he could reply, Sirius’ opposite hand wrapped around Harry’s throat, cutting his breath. 

“I got there first, you know. He was mine long before you were even born,” he growled, a malicious smirk at the corner of his lips. “Do you know the number of times he called my name while I fucked him? Begged me for it?” His grasp held fast even as Harry struggled against it. “What right did you have? Showing up from God-knows-where to take the one thing that has ever truly been mine!” Sirius’ grip tightened. “You. Ruined. Everything.”

_ No. _ Harry tugged at Sirius’ wrist, but his strength was failing. He had faced Lord Voldemort himself—cheated death again and again. Yet here he was—dying. Not at the hands of a mortal enemy, but of the man closest to a father he had ever known. 

Harry let out a slight gurgle in protest, eyes losing focus. His grip on Sirius’ wrist slackened, his entire body limp. Then a small, distant voice rang in Harry’s ears. 

_ “Stupify!” _

Just as the blackness nearly took him, Harry felt the hand rip from his throat. He gasped, crumpling to the ground. His lungs burned, head throbbing as he slowly regained control of his consciousness.

Harry felt hands grasping his shoulders, pulling him upright. He would have yanked away, but his strength was entirely depleted. His eyes blinked furiously as he looked up at the man. Not his godfather. Not even Severus.

“Professor Lupin…” he wheezed. “Why are you...here?”

Remus gave him a soft smile. “Professor Snape, Harry. He alerted me of your whereabouts and that you and Sirius could be in danger. I thought for sure he meant...” Remus shot a glance at Sirius’ sprawled unconscious form. 

Remus helped Harry to his feet, absorbing his full weight as he carried him over to an armchair. Harry collapsed into it. Kneeling, Remus grasped Harry’s shoulders once more. 

“Breathe with me, Harry,” said Remus softly. “Slowly. In...and out.”

Harry couldn’t. His heart was beating too fast; his mind muddled as he failed to grasp what had just transpired. Sirius had tried...had almost…

Remus pulled out his wand, conjuring a small bottle and a large bar of chocolate. Harry could have laughed. Remus uncorked the bottle, lifting it to Harry’s lips. “Here, it’s Calming Draught.”

Harry drank and immediately felt its effects. A soothing calm flowed over his body. His breathing eased, his muscles relaxed, his mind...less muddled.

“Eat,” said Remus, ripping open the chocolate wrapping and handing it to Harry. “All of it.” 

Harry remembered the first time he’d met Remus. He had supplied him with chocolate then too. Facing an army of Dementors would have been nothing compared to what he had faced. IT had been terror beyond anything he’d ever experienced in his life. With each bite, the shock ebbed.

“Are you alright?” said Remus softly, lifting his hand toward Harry’s chin. “Let me look at—”   


Harry stiffened, knocking his hand away. Remus looked at him with concern, then his eyes widened. “Harry! What happened to you?” 

“None of your business,” huffed Harry, pulling up his shirt collar to cover Severus’ marks.

Remus’ cheeks flushed, and he looked away. “Right. Of course. Well...I will need to check the bruising. May I?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m fine. Why don’t you go deal with  _ that,”  _ he hissed, pointing toward Sirius. 

The man was stirring, and Remus jumped to his feet. Grasping the front of Sirius’ shirt and a wand at his throat, Remus said,  _ “Rennervate.” _

Sirius’ eyes opened wide, blinking furiously as he oriented himself. “Remus, I…” Sirius stared down at his hands, then at Harry. “I don’t know what...”

“Now tell me—” said Remus, voice eerily calm, “—why I shouldn’t curse you into oblivion. If I hadn’t been here, If I hadn’t been warned, would Harry even…” Remus choked, tears welling in his eyes. “Why?!” he screamed, shaking Sirius as his wand tip pierced deeper into the man’s neck. “This is Harry! James’ son! You’re fucking godson. Why would you do this?!”

Sirius flinched, craning his neck away from the wand, but Remus only pressed in harder. “I’m sorry, Moony.” Remus’ features softened. “I couldn’t just—” Sirius gave Harry a sidelong glance, gritting his teeth, “—let him take what’s mine.”

Bewildered, Remus followed Sirius’ gaze toward Harry. “I don’t understand.”

“He never—” Harry seethed, rising to his feet, “—belonged to you.” He coughed, looking straight into Sirius’ cold gaze. “He chose me...he chose...me.” Harry betrayed a small smile as he took a shaky step forward, eyes flashing. 

Remus stared at Harry as he approached the two men, kneeling beside Sirius. “If you come near Severus or me again,” he said smoothly, one finger grazing Sirius’ Adam’s apple, “It will be my hand on your throat. And I won’t let go.”

“Harry!” gasped Remus. 

Harry ignored the man as he approached the fireplace, taking a handful of powder in his fist, watching it pour between his fingers.

“Wait, where are you going?” said Remus. “It’s not safe!”

“I am safe,” said Harry flatly, still facing the hearth. “With Severus.”

As he entered the fireplace and turned to face them, Harry’s fierce gaze found his godfather once more. “I wish Voldemort  _ had _ taken you,” he spat, before the flames engulfed him, leaving a horrified Remus in his wake.

* * *

  
  
  


**Severus**

Severus crossed the threshold of Spinner’s End, re-casting the protective wards and charms as he stepped into the cobblestone street. Ducking into the familiar alleyway, Severus prepared himself, as he always did, for the most dangerous lie he had ever told.

With a  _ CRACK, _ Severus was pulled into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a rough one...I'll make it up to you, I promise. <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Remus**

Several minutes passed after Harry disappeared into the flames, and Remus had yet to remove his wand from Sirius’ throat. Remus could almost feel the emptiness and silence of the house as if it were holding its breath. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears and released his own captured breath. His senses returning, the only sound that remained was Sirius’ labored breathing as he stared up at Remus. Old wounds ripped open as Remus stared down at the man. Remus flooded with anger, devastation, and desperation. 

“Severus. This was about...Severus?” 

He shut his eyes, trying to process what had just transpired. Severus had chosen Harry? What did this mean? Surely it couldn’t mean anything... _ untoward _ . Harry was only a boy. Severus had always had Harry’s best interest at heart, even if he refused to betray it. Harry felt safe with him. As a guardian, perhaps. Nothing...more. Sickness writhed in his stomach, but he forced it down as his attention returned to the broken man in his grasp.

“After all this time, Sirius. Why?”

“I’m sorry, Moony,” Sirius choked, “I lost control. I just...can’t forget.” Tears poured down his cheeks, and Remus’ heart shattered. “I want to forget.”

“What do you want to forget, Sirius?”

“Him.”

“Harry?” Remus knew the answer. He couldn’t bear the truth.

“Severus.”

His chest constricted as the name passed Sirius’ lips. Remus had known. Had always known. He’d seen the glances to the Slytherin table. The way amusement never met Sirius’ eyes as James tormented the boy. He could see the yearning. A mirror image of his own, unnoticed by the handsome, laughing boy he knew so long ago. Nor by the man before him.

Remus stared into Sirius’ mournful gaze. “You wish to forget?” he asked gruffly,

“Yes.”

“Then forget him.”

Remus cast his wand aside, his free hand threaded into Sirius’ thick curls, and kissed him. At first, Sirius only opened his eyes in shock, then his body responded, pulling Remus against him, deepening the kiss.

_ Forget him. Forget him. Take me. It’s always been me. I love you. No one could love you as I love you. _

Harry, long forgotten, Remus melted against the man, intoxicated by the smell and the feel of him. He’d only dreamed of this moment since he was fourteen years old. Too much of a coward to share his true feelings. Scared of Sirius’ rejection. Scared of James’ retaliation. 

Now. James was gone. Severus would never have him. Remus was here to pick up the pieces. Broken as they were, together they could be whole. Or they could try.

Sirius’ hand slid up the back of Remus’ jumper, grazing over a lifetime of scars. Sirius did not shy away from his malformations as previous lovers had. Remus had expected hunger, a feral physical need for distraction or release. Yet Sirius was tender, kissing the scars on his face, down his neck, Remus shuddering under his touch.

Even if only for one night, Remus would give all of himself, even if he received nothing in return. Sirius’ ministrations were slow as his fingers slid up Remus’ sides to remove his jumper. Remus was straddling him now, leaning back to pull it over his head, tossing it to the floor.

Sirius leaned forward, grasping Remus’ waist as he kissed him. Remus tugged at Sirius’ shirt, quickly discarded. Skin against skin. Yes. All he’d ever wanted. Better than he could have imagined. He would make him forget—regret the wasted years pining for someone who would never want him. 

Remus could feel the physical response of their proximity, and he let out a soft moan. “Forget him,” Remus breathed as Sirius nibbled on his neck, sending sparks of electricity down his spine, blood rushing to his groin. “Remember me.”

Sirius slid a calloused hand down the back of Remus’ trousers.

“I love you, Padfood.”

“I know.”

* * *

**Severus**

Severus stepped into the Atrium of the Ministry. All was silent apart from the gentle trickle of falling water from the large fountain at its center. The glow of green flames was absent from the hearths along the opposite wall. Only a soft golden light reflected off the surfaces, casting shadows in webs across the floor. It would make it easy to sense movement. Severus remained fully concealed under the cloak as he entered, making his way toward the lifts. Not a soul greeted him.

_ Government security at its finest. _

Severus rode the lift down to level nine—to the dark, eerily quiet entrance to the Department of Mysteries. A single black door stood before him at the end of the long corridor. Wandlessly, he opened the door. Of course, the wards would be down. Severus was impressed. How on earth had Lucius or any of those blundering buffoons managed to breach such complex protective enchantments?

He entered a small room surrounding him with doors. Right, then. Severus turned to cast the brand of a serpent on the back of the door he had entered through, just in time for blue flames to engulf him. The room spun around him like a top. Though the flames lapped at the cloak, they did not give off any heat, only a subtle cold breeze like an early winter frost. Though the cold he felt came from a different source entirely.

When the room finally came to a halt, he looked at the doors around him. To his relief, the brand had remained. Severus stood there for a moment considering his course of action. The Department of Mysteries was a labyrinth designed to confound all who entered, apart from the Unspeakables, of course. 

There was only one option. It was dangerous, and he knew it. Of course, this had always been dangerous, this fate of his own design. His personal safety had never truly mattered—more of repayment of a debt to Dumbledore than of any intent of nobility or decency.

That was a lie. It had always been for Harry. Dumbledore had asked, but he would have willingly laid down his life for the boy. As much as he resented him, despised him, he was still more precious to him than anything on this earth.

Severus pulled out his wand, sliding back his left sleeve, exposing the intricate scarring that could never be healed. He would have to open the connection that bonded all Death Eaters—with the Dark Lord himself. He took a deep, steadying breath as he enveloped his memories of the past few months—of Harry. Compressing them into the darkest corners of his mind, sealed and locked away for not a soul to discover—not even the Dark Lord. Severus would not have survived this long if he wasn’t the proficient Occlumens as he was. 

_ Secrets and lies. You taught me well, Albus. _

He pressed the tip of his wand to his pale skin, feeling the tug of the bond. It felt sticky and rotten. Entrapment. Fear. Hopelessness. Helplessness. Nothing like what he had with Harry. Bright and weightless. Happiness. Belonging. Safety. Home.

Gently, he pushed down the bond. Lucius was not far. Severus need not delve deeper than was necessary. He followed its call. Room after room. Door after door. Finally, through a vast room that chilled him to the core. He could hear voices from a curtained archway set upon a dais, but he dared not linger.

At last, as he approached the entrance to the Hall of Prophecy, he severed the bond. There had been not even a flutter of movement along the bond. As far as he knew, no one had discovered his invasion. Not even Lucius. What Severus himself discovered had been slightly alarming. Lucius wasn’t alone. He’d sensed twelve in total. For one boy? Severus could not help but smile before his stomach constricted. If Harry had come…the chance he would have survived. Severus pushed the thought from his mind.

The Dark Lord was not with them. Not yet. If all goes to plan and Lucius fails, his rank will dissolve. Twelve of his most  _ devoted _ servants would be punished—no less than they deserve. The door opened soundlessly before him, and he stepped inside.

It was illuminated by dim blue light radiating from thousands of orbs resting side by side on shelving that towered above him, the rows appearing endless. It would be easy to get lost in here. He had to be careful. He had stepped between rows 54 and 55. He cast a silencing charm on himself, betraying not an echo of a footstep or rustle of robes. 

Now, where were they? He’d have to unveil the location of the Prophecy in question. Once he found his dark brethren. They would surely be hovering nearby, lying in wait for Harry to find.

_ 77, 78, 79… _

Then he heard it—a hushed whisper. Severus cast a sound-enhancing charm and focused intently on the voice.

“What if he does not come?” whispered a raspy female voice to his right.

Bellatrix. Severus scrunched his nose in disgust. 

“Hush, Bella!” A male whisper. Lucius. “He will. The Dark Lord is confident. Potter cannot resist the opportunity for  _ heroism. _ ”

_ 89, 90, 91... _

The ghost of the bond tugged him further. His mental claws reached forward, slithering their way toward his victim. Crabbe.

Now, to find the prophecy. The memory sat at the forefront of Crabbe’s mind. His orders to stand guard in 98. In case Potter discovered it in...

_ 97. _

Then he saw them: Crabbe and Macnair. Though hidden in the darkness of neighboring rows, Severus was keenly aware of their presence. Then Severus heard it. That voice. It was as if it were only yesterday. The Hog’s Head. Sybill Trelawney.

The voice called to him. Severus could not make the words out completely, but he knew he had found it. Near the end of the row, the blue smoke was swirling—glowing a bit more brightly than the others—almost luring Severus to its side. He had the desire to reach out and take it, though he knew the consequences if he did.

Now, to make it look like an accident. To his luck, Crabbe was hulking and clumsy enough to do just enough damage as was required. Severus let out a slight cough, and the two men launched into the aisle, darting toward the invisible Severus, looking around stupidly.

“Who’s there?” growled Crabbe, taking slow, heavy steps toward Severus—toward the Prophecy.

Good. Only a few more steps. As Crabbe turned to inspect the Prophecy, Severus made his move. Casting a silent  _ Flipendo _ at the man, Crabbe crash headfirst into the shelves. Severus watched as Harry’s orb teetered, then rolled off the shelf. Severus held his breath as it fell. Crabbe grappled for purchase on the edge of a shelf, more prophecies falling from above. His eyes widened in horror as orb after orb fell, shattering at his feet.

“No!” screamed Lucius, who had whipped around the corner. He launched forward, but it was too late. Harry’s orb smashed onto the floor, shattering into a million pieces. Severus released his breath. Lucius raked his hands through the glass, slicing cuts across his hands. “No, no, no!” he sobbed.

Severus almost felt sorry for the man. He thought of Draco, punished alongside his father after this blunder. He’d have to do something for the boy if he was able.

“What have you done?!” screamed Bellatrix, rounding on Crabbe.  _ “Crucio!” _

Crabbe fell to the floor, writhing in pain, the glass slicing his exposed skin, his screams echoing through the room. Lucius continued to sob. The rest of the Death Eaters assembled, dumbfounded and looking to one another for an explanation.

His final act. Severus pressed the tip of his wand to the mark once more. He pulled Lucius’ magic to him from the bond. It would be his request.

_ Come. We have him. _

The Death Eaters let out gasps and screams as their marks burned.

“Who did it?!” screeched Bellatrix, face drained of color. “Who called him?!” She turned to each of them in turn, prepared to curse each in succession.

The raw terror emitting from each of them was near tangible. A small part of him twisted with guilt, yet so minute it was insignificant. Severus backed down the aisle. He’d have to leave quickly. Severus retraced his path through branded doorway after doorway. His mark burned hotter as he clambered into the telephone booth. The Dark Lord approached. Severus could feel his pleasure and anticipation ripple down the bond. His blood pumping, Severus prayed to whatever gods that be that he would make it out alive.

The booth halted, and he threw open the door. Severus gasped as he sucked in the night air, leaving not a second’s pause before twisting into darkness once more.

* * *

He’d nearly collapsed on the cobblestone street. Pure terror washed over him, as it always had upon his return from the Dark Lord’s call. 

He’d done it. The Dark Lord would never get his hands on the Prophecy. Dumbledore would take it to his death before divulging such an essential weapon against him. The obvious course of action: Severus would be summoned. He would be ordered to attain Dumbledore’s memory or view the memory for himself.

Severus paled. He hadn’t been called to the Dark Lord’s side since before Harry had—their  _ bond _ had changed him. How could he begin to explain such a phenomenon to a man who desired nothing more than everlasting life? Fifteen years gone in a matter of moments.

Dumbledore. He would need to see Dumbledore, and there was no time to waste.

* * *

**Harry**

Falling to the floor, Harry let out a violent cough. He still had trouble breathing. He should have let Remus attend to him, but he needed Severus to see it for himself. What his godfather had done. A small part of Harry relished in the thought of Severus’ fury—what he might do to Sirius. 

“Severus,” he gasped, looking up to find the empty quarters. Harry looked frantically around the room, scrambling to his feet and stumbling into the bedroom. “Sev!”

_ He said he’d be here. That he wouldn’t leave. Not without  _ him.

Harry felt a sob build in his chest. His darkest fear washed over him. .Had last night even happened? Had it all been a dream? No, it was real. The bed was disheveled, the sheets frantically thrown back when Harry launched himself from the bed. He had stayed here. They had been together. They’d almost…

But he was gone.

Harry’s eye caught the bit of parchment lying on the bed. He rushed over to it, his eyes roaming over it hungrily.

_ Harry, _

_ There is something I must do. I am sorry for leaving. Trust me. I will return. _

_ I love you, _

_ Sev _

The relief dulled his anxiety slightly, but a new fear enveloped him. Where had he gone? Had Voldemort called him? Was he at the Department of Mysteries?! If Harry did not come, would he be punished? Tortured?!

Instead of Sirius, it was Severus screaming and writhing on the floor, Voldemort looming over him, laughing. The panic he’d felt for Sirius couldn’t be compared to the depth of his devastation and terror for Severus. If Voldemort penetrated his mind and discovered their bond, he would have Harry at his mercy completely. If he had Severus, he had Harry.

Dumbledore. He’d have to find Dumbledore! Just as he grasped the handle of Severus’ front door, he remembered that Dumbledore wasn’t in his office. Not in the school at all. How could he reach him? Harry didn’t know how to send a secret evaporated letter or whatever it was Severus had done.

“Harry.”

He knew that voice. Harry whipped around, finding Albus Dumbledore emerging from the hearth.

“Dumbledore!” He ran to the older man, grasping his arms. “Severus is gone! Where is he? Do you know?! Tell me!” 

“Yes, I do,” he said calmly. “I expect he should be along shortly.”

Harry released him and let out a deep breath, “So he’s...safe?”

“We are never truly safe, Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “He’s not being tortured, or kept hostage or—”

Green flames roared beside Dumbledore, and Severus stepped out of the hearth.

* * *

**Severus**

“Albus, I was just about to—”

Harry slammed into him, nearly knocking Severus to the ground.

“Harry!” he gasped.

Severus’ chest tightened. He pulled the boy in tighter, overwhelmed with emotion as he breathed in his scent. He’d succeeded. Harry was safe...for now. Severus cradled the boy’s head against his shoulder, and Harry began to sob. 

“You left. I thought you could be—that he’d—” 

“I’m fine, Harry. Everything is fine.” He grabbed Harry’s shoulders, pushing him back slightly. “How did it go with Sir…” 

Severus’ gaze fell from Harry’s pale face to his neck, patterned with the tiny marks he’d left not hours before. But. Not just Severus’ marks. Purpling lines across his throat as if...someone had grabbed him. Not only grabbed him—taken his throat in hand and squeezed. Hard. In an attempt to…

“Who did this?!” he growled, brushing his thumb gently across the lines on Harry’s neck, eyes flashing.

Harry looked up at him, mirroring his fury. “Sirius,” he spat. “He didn’t like much that I’d spent time in your bed.”

Severus stiffened, his eyes darting toward Dumbledore and back to Harry. “What happened?”

“I found Sirius. Drunk. He saw your tunic, and he...grabbed me. I tried to push him off,” Harry lifted his hand to his throat, “but he was crushing me, couldn’t breathe. I was—” He buried his face into Severus’ neck. “—so scared.”

His arms enveloped Harry once again, rubbing his back soothingly. “How did you get away? Did he release you or—”

“Lupin. Professor Lupin. He said you’d sent him. He pulled Sirius off. Just before I…”

Severus gulped, shooting a glare at Dumbledore. “Did you know about this?!” he seethed.

“I’ve only just discovered this for myself,” said Albus tenderly. His head tilted toward Harry. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“He won’t get away with this.”

“Undoubtedly,” said Dumbledore.

“But you have news I expect?” spat Severus.

“Upon receipt of your letter, Severus, I made all necessary contacts and arrived at the Ministry shortly after your departure. Just as you had intended, the ministry officials arrived just moments after Voldemort himself.” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Fudge has, of course, made a full statement regarding Voldemort’s return and has asked for my immediate reinstatement as Headmaster. Delores will be gone on the morrow.”

Severus gave him a curt nod. 

“You made quite the mess, Severus,” chuckled Dumbledore.

Harry lifted his head, looking at Severus with scrutiny, “So you  _ did _ go to the Ministry! You promised we would go together!”

“I know, Harry. I’m sorry. I was confident you would find Sirius safe and sound. What I had to do, I had to do alone.”

He’d also been confident that Sirius, however angry he was with Severus, would never lay a finger on Harry. For that mistake, Severus would never forgive himself. 

“And you told  _ me _ not to do anything rash,” Harry grumbled.

Dumbledore be damned, he took Harry’s chin in his hand and kissed him. Harry clutched to him tighter. Severus could taste the salt of shed tears on Harry’s lips.

“I’m so sorry,” Severus breathed against them. “Forgive me.”

Harry looked at him intently. “What happened at the Ministry?”

Severus gave him a wary smile as he led Harry to the couch, where he curled up in Severus’ lap. Severus stroked the soft tresses of black hair as he looked at Dumbledore. “We have to tell him, Albus.”

Harry lifted his head, “Tell me what?”

“Yes, that is precisely why I am here. As its archive has been destroyed, only I can divulge the secrets of the Prophecy. At least, in full.”

Severus cleared his throat. “Do you..wish to do so alone?”

“No!” yelled Harry, clutching tightly to Severus’ robes. “You can’t leave me. Not again.” Harry glared at Dumbledore, opening his mouth to object. 

“No. You must hear this for yourself as well, Severus.” Dumbledore turned from them, and the hearth lit vibrantly. “Come, let us return to my office. There is much to discuss.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Severus**

Before Harry could take his first step toward the Headmaster, Severus gently grabbed hold of his arm. Harry looked at him anxiously, but Severus kept his face blank, his eyes focused solely on Dumbledore.

“May we have a moment, Albus?”

“Of course,” he replied with a slight bow.

Albus disappeared into the flames, and Severus pulled the boy against him, claiming Harry’s lips with his own. The boy let out a small gasp before wrapping his arms tightly around Severus’ waist. Not hours before, it could have been their last kiss, their last…everything.

The feel and taste of him overwhelmed Severus’ senses as he recalled the crippling fear and suffocation as he fled the Ministry. It had been Harry—Harry’s fear, Harry gasping for air. A bond far beyond body and soul.

Severus grabbed Harry’s shoulders, pushing him just far enough to break the kiss.

“Harry, I need to—know what happened.”

Harry bit his lip. “Well, when I—”

“ _ See _ what happened.”

Harry’s emerald eyes locked with his, and Severus could feel the trust between them. Harry nodded. “Okay.”

The shield of Harry’s mind, as feeble as it was, opened for him willingly. Sirius had been drunk. No surprise there. The sudden shift—Sirius’ burning amber eyes replaced the smokey grey as he grabbed Harry’s throat. Severus knew those eyes. He’d seen them for himself—the night Severus broke Sirius’ heart—if he even had a heart to break.

His fury built as Harry’s fear intensified, his breath and pulse slowing. Severus could hardly bear it, but he forced himself deeper. Lupin, arriving just as Harry’s cling to life nearly broke. His rage was Harry’s rage—his finger on Sirius’ throat.

_ “If you come near Severus or me again, It will be my hand on your throat, and I won’t let go.” _

Severus released Harry’s mind, the savagery of his last words fresh in Harry’s gaze.

“Harry…” Severus’ voice rumbled headily in his throat. “You are…”

“Willing to do  _ anything _ to protect you,” he said, taking a step forward, pressing their bodies firmly against one another. Harry smiled mischievously, sliding his fingers up the nape of Severus’ neck as his other hand traveled downward.

Severus’ cock twitched.  _ Of all the inappropriate times to get a bloody erection. _ He swallowed, grabbing Harry’s wrists. 

“And as much as I would love to...continue. We have a previous engagement.”

Harry let out a huff of disappointment, wincing slightly as Severus’ fingers grazed against his bruised neck.

“May I?” Severus asked softly, cupping his cheek.

Harry pressed his cheek into his palm and nodded. Severus pulled out his wand to cast the necessary healing spells. 

Harry rubbed his neck. “Thanks.” Smooth. Unblemished. A blank canvas.

“Of course,” he said, regaining some level of composure.

“Can’t  _ you _ just tell me what this is all about?” pleaded Harry, his hands clutching the front of Severus’ robes.

“I have questions of my own,” said Severus, brushing the unkempt fringe from Harry’s brow, revealing the lightning-shaped scar.

Severus had never truly considered or cared before—the link between Harry and the Dark Lord. His gut twisted, bile rising into his throat. Regarding his bond between Voldemort and his followers, could this tiny scar carry the same magic of his own mark, cast involuntary upon an innocent child? Harry— _ his _ Harry—possibly bound eternally just as Severus would be until his death—or the Dark Lord’s. 

Occlumency was imperative. The only way Severus himself had survived all these years. What a stubborn fool he had been to put Harry at such great risk for the sake of wounded pride. 

Though his soul bond with Harry felt entirely different, he could not help but fear their connection could be founded on something far more sinister. No, Severus had been sixteen and yet to take the mark when Harry entered his life, and their soul bond presented itself. 

There had to be an answer, and Severus was confident that the Prophecy was the key.

* * *

**Harry**

Stepping into the Headmaster’s office, Harry discovered the chattering of several voices. The Headmaster portraits.

“Thank Salazar, you’re back, Dumbledore. I haven’t been able to leave my portrait in weeks since that Ministry bitch—“

“Phineas.”

“Alright, that  _ woman _ started poking those pudgy fingers where they didn’t belong—wanting to know how to get into your office, where you could be hiding. As if I could know anything of the sort. An absolute nightmare.” The other portraits muttered in agreement.

Harry’s patience was wearing thin. “Alright, now will someone please tell me what’s going on?” said Harry, exasperated, looking from Severus to Dumbledore. “Why did I have that dream? What happened at the Department of Mysteries? What is this Prophecy, and why does Voldemort want it so badly?”

Severus kept silent as his eyes followed Dumbledore’s path across the room. Dumbledore took a seat behind his desk, gesturing for them to sit in the chairs before him. Harry let out a huff of annoyance, but he obliged the man, Severus close on his heels.

“Well?” said Harry, on the edge of his seat.

Dumbledore let a few beats pass before responding. “As for your first question. You are aware of the connection between yourself and Lord Voldemort?”

Harry nodded. Severus shifted in his chair. 

“It is for this very reason I instructed Severus to teach you Occlumency. However…”

Severus cleared his throat, “A rash lapse in judgment.”

“Frankly, Severus, I had never anticipated you would abandon Harry’s training, as invested in his protection you have been these past fifteen years.”

Harry shot a glance at Severus. Fifteen years—since his parent’s death. All this time, he had been watching over Harry, regardless of their past. So carefully concealed under abject loathing and disgust. 

“Forgive me,” said Severus, bowing his head. To Harry or to Dumbledore, he did not know.

“As I had feared,” Dumbledore shifted his gaze back toward Harry, “Voldemort sought to manipulate the connection in order to lure you to the Department of Mysteries.”

“But why?” asked Harry.

“The Department of Mysteries is home to the records of every Prophecy that has been foretold. The Prophecy in question, of course, regards Lord Voldemort and yourself. It is because of this Prophecy that he sought to kill you when you were only a child. One of his followers overheard its initial recitation. However, he was thrown from the premises before it could be fully divulged. From what little information this follower afforded Voldemort, his actions to take fate into his own hands became his downfall in the end.

“Now that he has returned with a proper body, it has been Voldemort’s main objective to hear the entirety of the Prophecy. As only those of which a Prophecy regards can safely remove it, he required you, Harry.”

“But he could have taken it for himself, then. Why did he need me?”

“Voldemort was in no position to galavant around the Ministry while his anonymity offered him more power and manipulation. How are we to protect ourselves and our neighbors if a threat does not reveal itself.”

“But you said you saw him...and the Minister. They know he’s back.”

“Yes. One of two blessings in disguise that transpired tonight.”

“Two?” asked Harry. None of this made sense.

“It is my understanding that Severus made a trip to the Ministry in hopes to foil what would be Voldemort’s only opportunity to obtain the Prophecy. It appears he has succeeded.”

Harry turned to Severus. “Succeeded how? Were you able to take it? Did you hear what it says?” asked Harry, adrenaline pumping in his veins.

“The archive of the Prophecy at the Department of Mysteries has been destroyed. Therefore, only the original witness could reveal its contents,” replied Dumbledore.

Harry’s eyes widened in shock. “You what?!”

Severus grabbed Harry’s hand. “It was the only way to protect you. He would only have attempted to lure you there again. By any means necessary.”

Harry melted with Severus’ touch, reassurance flowing through him. Severus would do anything to protect Harry. “Then, who was the witness?” he asked Dumbledore. “Do you know who it is?”

“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Me. Predicted by our very own Sybill Trelawney.”

Harry was taken aback. “So then...this was the first. You had said, back in my Third Year, that she had only made two real predictions. This was the first.”

“Indeed it was, Harry.”

“So  _ you _ can tell me!” Harry nearly jumped from his seat. He would finally get the answers he was so anxious to hear. 

“Alas, I cannot tell you. Not tonight.” 

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore raised a hand. Begrudgingly, Harry snapped his mouth shut, falling back into his chair. Why was Harry even here if Dumbledore was only going to keep him in the dark, as he always had? Did he not trust Harry?

“After what had transpired this evening, it is even more vital that Harry masters Occlumency, Severus. If we have any hope of defeating Lord Voldemort, we must be absolutely certain that he cannot influence Harry again.”

Severus nodded. “Of course.”

“Once Severus has deemed you prepared, Harry, I shall then reveal the Prophecy to you.”

As frustrating as it might be, Harry could not fault the man. If Voldemort wanted to get his hands on that Prophecy and maintained an all-access pass to Harry’s mind, Dumbledore couldn’t risk giving Harry any more information. He was already putting Severus in danger if their relationship were to be discovered. If Dumbledore were to trust Harry with his secrets, and Harry failed to guard his mind, he would never forgive himself.

“Alright, Professor. We’ll start right now, then.” He turned toward Severus eagerly.

“Harry, it is nearly four in the morning,” said Severus in reproach. “You need to rest.”

“Quite right, Severus. Harry, it is time that you return to your dormitory.”

Harry’s face fell. “What? Why?” He turned to Severus, tightening his grip on his hand. “I want to stay with you.”

“The Headmaster is right. Your friends will notice your absence. You must return at once,” said Severus. “I’m sorry, Harry. I will see you...soon. I promise.”

Once again, Harry was torn between what he desired compared to its cost. He let out a groan. 

“Fine…” drawled Harry as he stood and walked over to Severus. 

Arms wrapped tightly around the man’s neck, Severus could not pull away as Harry kissed him passionately. Harry did not care if Dumbledore was there. It was clear the older man had known of what was between them long before Harry had. Who knew the next time he could kiss him like this.

Severus finally broke away, panting. Harry could see the arousal in his dark eyes. “You did that on purpose,” breathed Severus. 

Harry smirked. “Did it work?”

Severus rolled his eyes as he withdrew Harry’s invisibility cloak from the pocket of his robes. “Quite handy, this cloak. No doubt my consistent suspicions of your involvement in various post-curfew escapades have been justified?”

Harry’s smile grew deviant, and Severus blushed slightly. “You may never know.” 

With one last peck on a stubbled cheek, Harry bid the men goodnight, taking one last glance at Severus before he walked out the door. This night’s events, be that of his dreams or nightmares, only proved the depth of his feelings for the man—and of Severus’ for him. He smiled brightly as he threw over the cloak and rushed back toward the dormitory.

Harry wasn’t particularly sure what had done it or if he needed a reason at all, but he was excruciatingly hard. Once he’d returned to the privacy of his four-poster, Harry closed his eyes, picturing a pale, slender body, dark penetrating eyes, and sleek black hair strewn out on the sheets beneath him. On his sixteenth birthday.

* * *

**Severus**

“You didn’t tell him it was me.”

“Should I have?”

Severus looked down at his hands. It had all been his fault. The Prophecy. The Dark Lord. Lily. James….and Harry.

“Severus, I know exactly what you are thinking. None of this is your fault. You made a terrible mistake that night, but you have done everything in your power to rectify it. Once you have heard the Prophecy in its entirety, you will understand.”

Severus lifted his head, eyes wide. “You...you actually plan to...confide in me?”

“Oh, it was never a matter of whether to confide in you, Severus, but when.”

“Why not now? Harry may not be able to conceal it, but you know my abilities.” Severus was desperate. If it contained vital information regarding the Dark Lord’s fate— _ Harry’s _ fate—he needed to know.

“I’m afraid you must trust my judgment once again, Severus.”

Severus launched from his chair in a fit of rage. “Trust you, indeed! The record is destroyed, Harry remains in  _ constant _ danger, and yet you refuse to provide me with information necessary to keep him alive!”

“As long as he remains here at school under your care, Harry is safe.”

Severus allowed his muscles to relax slightly. “How can he? As if I can remain by his side. We may be soul bound, but we remain teacher and student.” Try as he might, it returned, his ever-present companion these many years—shame.

“Harry’s Occlumency training is of the utmost importance. I am confident that between Harry and yourself, you will find an opportunity to issue an over-enthusiastic number of detentions. This has never been a problem before.” The older man’s eyes twinkled over his half-moon spectacles. 

_ Always twinkling.  _ As if this situation is in any way amusing. Severus pursed his lips. “Fine.”

“As you are not storming from my office at this very moment, I am to assume you have more you wish to discuss.”

More was an understatement. “I have been wondering. Could Harry’s scar. Is it…” He glanced at his sleeved forearm.

“I do not think so.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I am not sure, Severus. Though I can make an educated guess.”

“Enlighten me.”

“It is too early to share my speculations.”

_ Of course, it is. _ “Yet you believe yourself to be correct?” he bristled. 

“Naturally.”

Severus could have ripped his hair out. This man was  _ infuriating!  _

_ “When?!” _

“Now, now, Severus. Focus on Harry’s Occlumency training, Severus. Then all will be revealed.”

Severus turned from the Headmaster, seething. “Draco.”

“Yes?” said Dumbledore.

“He needs protection.”

“Under the circumstances, who better than you, Severus?” 

Wonderful. Add it to the list of things  _ Dumbledore does not want to deal with himself. Professor. Spy. Babysitter. _

“There is something else I need of you,” Severus continued, turning back toward the man. He approached the desk slowly, “which you  _ cannot _ delegate back to  _ me.” _

“And what is that, Severus?”

“My face,” he hissed.  _ “This _ me. What do I tell him? What  _ can _ I tell him? I assume that any moment now, he will call.”

“Ah, yes,” said Dumbledore, smiling as he rose from his chair. He made his way toward a large mahogany cabinet. “I have been saving these for you.” Dumbledore opened the cabinet to reveal several jars of jet-black hair.

Severus blinked at him. “You...what?”

“I’ve been collecting your vanished trimmings for two years now. Though I’m confident, I have more than enough for 27 lifetimes.” Dumbledore levitated a collection of jars, which floated over to set on the desk in front of Severus. “I’d imagine the specimens of the past three or four years would be appropriate.”

Severus gaped at the man, appalled.  _ “Why, _ in Salazar’s name, do you have jars of my  _ hair?!” _

“Another one of my educated guesses. I first sensed a deeper connection between you and Harry the night Lily and James died. You knelt before me overwhelmed with emotion—devastation, guilt, loathing. Violent bursts of your magic unleashed around you. When I asked you to watch over the boy, to help me protect Harry, your magic stilled, slowly retreating back into your body.”

Severus observed the man carefully and dared not speak.

“Then came Harry’s First Year. When he was called to be sorted, you locked eyes, did you not?”

Severus remembered. The moment his dark eyes met green, everything changed. As much as he despised and resented the boy for who he would become—for what he would—Severus felt it. The same pull had felt all those years ago. 

“I believe it is the first time in my life that I was able to read your thoughts, Severus. You must have been very shocked indeed to have left yourself so vulnerable. Harry at fifteen years of age—and you.”

Severus paled. He could not recall a time in which he had been so careless in regards to his mental shields. 

Dumbledore strode across the room, halting before a tattered old hat. “Harry confided in me that the Sorting Hat encouraged he be in Slytherin,” Dumbledore continued.

“What?”

“I do believe it attempted to bring you two together. However, Harry passionately declined. It appears he had developed an extreme dislike for a certain Mr. Malfoy, which turned him off to the idea entirely.”

Harry in  _ Slytherin?! _ Severus never would have survived.

“Then there was Harry’s Third Year. I bestowed upon Harry and Miss Granger a task. One that would require a trip through time. Minerva had acquired a Time-Turner for Miss Granger in order to manage her exuberant course load. 

“As I had expected, Miss Granger returned the device at the end of the year. This Time-Turner, in fact.” Dumbledore pulled the small gold instrument from his pocket. “Not far from the flesh memories held by a Golden Snitch, a Time-Turner holds a record of every trip it has taken—who and when. You can understand my curiosity when I came upon a unique record of travel.”

“Which was?”

“Harry’s trip to 1976. From earlier this year.”

“But. He hadn’t…”

“Not in his lifetime, no, but according to yours, Severus, he already had.”

“But. How?”

“It is as I have said. Light magic is an unpredictable force. It was then that I made the connection. You had known Harry at fifteen, but he had yet to know you. Not only did it contain the memory of Harry’s travel, but of what returned with him as well.”

Severus waited. When Dumbledore did not continue, he yelled, “Well? What was it then?”

“What indeed, Severus,” he smiled. “Are you aware that the boy can produce a corporeal Patronus? The Dementors proved to have quite the effect on Harry that year. Under Remus’ instruction, Harry was able to master the spell in under a year. Do you know the form it takes, Severus?”

Severus held his breath.

“A stag.”

Severus collapsed into the chair. Though soulmates are not considered a rare phenomenon among wizardkind, those whose Patronuses were mates in their own right represent the rarest and most profound emotional and physical bonds to exist between two beings on earth.

As is the stag to its doe. 

There had been no chance of stopping it. No matter how hard Severus had fought, he always knew, deep down, that their fates were inevitable. Harry. His match, his equal, each half of one whole.  _ A fucking stag. _

“Harry returned this year with the soulbond fully realized between that of himself and the 16-year-old Severus Snape. As your bond was founded upon the manipulation of time, I took it upon myself to take some necessary precautions. You know well how heavily I rely on you, Severus. What if time pulled you or Harry into its grasp again? Who could possibly take your place apart from myself?”

This was all too much. Dumbledore had known for years?! He’d even concocted one of his crackpot schemes to replace him if he were to...what? Disappear? Or…

“Returning to the issue at hand, based on your current biological constitution, if a Polyjuice Potion were brewed with a piece of yourself as you are now, a mirror image of your 21-year-old self would appear. However, if these are used,” Dumbledore gestured to the jars of hair, “I do believe your appearance would match that of the age in which the hair was collected, just as it would for myself.”

Severus did not know whether to be intrigued or disgusted. “So you are saying that I can become...myself?” he asked speculatively. “As I was. Before…” he pointed to his face, “this?”

“I believe so. I’ve brewed several batches of Polyjuice as well, preserved in stasis charms. Shall we test my theory?”

“This has never been done?!”

“Who else do you know in your unique position?”

In all his years, Severus had never heard of such a phenomenon. “What are the risks?”

Dumbledore considered. “I suppose your past and present cells could bind to themselves, leaving you to remain at….what would you prefer? 34, 35, or 36?.”

Severus paled. As terrifying as the initial transformation had been, he’d quickly embraced his younger body. He had more energy, vitality, sharpness, even...confidence. Would Harry still want him if he returned to the sneering Professor that tormented his youth?

“And this is…my only option?”

“If you have an alternative solution, Severus, by all means. I am all ears.”

He did not. “Very well. 34 it is then.”

Dumbledore collected the appropriate specimen, conjuring a goblet that filled instantly with a thick bubbling liquid.

Severus took the goblet and drank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot to unpack here...thank you for sticking with me! <3

**Author's Note:**

> **Thank you for reading!**
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**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Fanart] Sev and Harry in the Great Hall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999999) by [Drarry_Quite_Contrary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarry_Quite_Contrary/pseuds/Drarry_Quite_Contrary)




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